


Love Is Watching Someone Die

by RhayFalkCross



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Family, M/M, Sadstuck, Stridercest - Freeform, Triggers (?), terminal illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 31,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhayFalkCross/pseuds/RhayFalkCross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is nineteen years old and has two months to live.<br/>Dirk Strider is thirty five and has to figure out a way to put his own devestation aside to take care of his little brother.<br/>Somehow he'll find a way to make his last eight weeks count. </p>
<p>Heads up, this will not end happily. I'm sorry; it just won't.<br/>The title of the fic comes from this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQuVudn1-RE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Do I Break The News To You

**Author's Note:**

> The idea originally came from an rp between myself and turntechGodheart and myself, me playing the part of Dirk, and I just expounded. I sincerely apologize if I portrayed any part of this in a way that people find offensive or insensitive, that was not my intention. 
> 
> The reason I wanted so badly to do this story is because I liked the idea of Dirk and Dave being forced to change their relationship and grow together, because they don't have the time to waste on maintaining their normal rivalry. I already know how this is going to end, and it's not going to be pretty, but the time spent getting there will be.
> 
> ALSO: sorry about the shitty pesterlogs, they won't be used for the remainder of the story, I believe.

            Dirk Strider sat in his room updating his smuppet site for the first time this week, pesterchum open in one tab while various business bullshit took up several other windows. He raised a single eyebrow as a name that hadn’t been active for a long time unexpectedly lit up and a chat window suddenly opened on his screen.

**turntechGodhead [TG]** **began pestering** **timaeusTestified [TT]** **at 11:37**

**TG: hey**

**TT: Little man, what the fuck are you doing awake at this hour? Don’t you have school in the morning or some such?**

            He’s perfectly aware that Dave graduated over a year ago, but it always pissed the younger Strider off to think that Dirk actually paid that little attention to his comings and goings. If he was being perfectly honest, he _didn’t_ actually pay that much attention, but he wasn’t so shitty of a guardian that he wasn’t aware of at least how old his charge was.

**TG: i havent been in public school since i was six**

**TG: i would have graduated by now anyway goddamn**

**TG: im nineteen**

**TT: We’ll I’ll be damned, time does fly. Ordinarily, I would admit to a serious case of the fuckups on my part as a guardian, but then I remembered that you never leave your room; I wouldn’t be able to tell if you’d aged anyway.**

**TG: bro im not even in my room what the fuck**

**TG: i havent been home for a month**

           This was news to him. Sure, he hadn’t seen Dave around the apartment lately, but he had assumed that the kid was out meeting up with friends or getting laid. Whatever it was young people did these days. Apparently not.

            **TT: Welp. I’m just going to go ahead and shut the fuck up, let you explain things. Obviously, the smuppet fumes are getting to me.**

**TG: im actually in the hospital**

**TG: have been for a month now**

**TG: theres no pretty way to say this bro**

**TG: i have cancer**

**TG: leukemia to be specific**

**TG: doc says i have eight weeks**

He stared his screen, completely at a loss for words. There was a chance, a small one, that Dave was pulling the shittiest joke known to man. But he was a Strider, and Striders didn’t joke about much of anything not related to dicks. Dirk felt a numbness in his stomach, this was too much to process, and his disbelief gave into rage.           

            **TT: Excuse me? Did you not think to fill me in at any fucking point in time? Did it not seem important to you, Dave?**

**TG: not at the time no**

**TG: i wanted to deal with it without you and everyone else making a federal fucking issue over making every last second absolutely amazing**

**TG: you never even noticed all the times i snuck out in the middle of the day?**

**TG: seriously?**

**TT: I noticed, I just didn’t think it was a big deal. Jesus Christ, it isn’t as though cancer was on my list of the top ten things to worry about when Dave leaves the house.**

            **TG: yeah well its too late now**

**TG: now isnt it?**

**TG: do you think you could come pick me up in the morning?**

**TG: they said its cool if i go home to keel over**

Even through this textual medium he could hear the bitterness in the words, and Dirk knew he was being completely serious. And all at once, he deflated. All his witty remarks and phrases communicating aloof swag are fell in on themselves as the line “ **i have eight weeks** ” replayed in his mind. He couldn’t understand why or how, but he could grasp one important fact: his brother was dying.

            **TT: Of course I can come get you, what kind of question is that? I just refuse to believe there’s nothing that can be done.**

**TG: chemo failed**

**TG: bone marrow transplant failed**

**TG: theyve tried everything possible already**

**TT: Well then, they can fucking try again.**

**TT: Seriously, you can’t just give up, that is the worst goddamn attitude ever.**

**TG: i suffered for a whole fucking year**

**TG: and that fucking transplant hurt**

**TG: and chemo hurt**

**TG: everything just hurts**

**TG: i give up**

**TT: This isn’t fair, kid, you didn’t tell anyone.**

**TT: You didn’t tell me.**

**TT: I would have been there, I know I fucked up in the past, but I. Would. Have. Been. There.**

**TG: i know i already explained why i didnt tell anyone before**

**TG: but now**

**TG: now i just want to spend every second possible with you okay**

**TG: make up for lost time and all**

For the first time in decades, Dirk Strider was feeling fear. Solid, cold, and nearly debilitating fear. Dave was leaving him no room to hope, no possibility that there was a way to fix this.

            **TT: Whatever you want, I’ll do it. No question. But you can’t just expect me to sit by and watch you die.**

**TT: I don’t care if I’m being selfish a bastard, this isn’t right.**

**TT: They can test my marrow; see if I’m a match.**

**TT: We can get you a second transplant.**

**TT: You won’t have to go through it alone this time.**

            **TG: bro**

**TG: no**

**TG: I refuse to take your bone marrow**

**TG: just no**

**TG: i wont put you through that pain when it will most likely be in vain**

**TT: That is the most idiotic thing I have ever fucking heard. I am a grown man, Dave, I can take whatever they throw at me if it means saving your life.**

**TT: Shit, don’t you realize how young you are?**

**TT: You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.**

            **TG: i have two months ahead of me**

**TG: thats it**

**TG: its too late for another transplant**

**TT: So we’re not even going to attempt it? No. Thank you for playing, please try again.**

**TG: i dont want to try again**

**TG: i can barely get out of bed some days**

**TG: my body is nowhere near strong enough to undergo another operation**

**TT: Please.**

**TT: Don’t do this.**

**TT: You can’t just ditch me, it’s supposed to be you and I against the world.**

**TT: I’m not saying it’ll be a fucking walk in the park, but isn’t it better than the alternative?**

**TT: Is your life really so bad?**

            **TG: for the last year it has been**

**TG: you have no idea what its like to cry yourself to sleep because youre in so much pain**

**TG: the only reason im over eighty pounds is because i stopped upchucking everything after every round of chemo**

**TG: im sorry i didn’t tell you sooner**

**TG: i really do regret it**

**TG: because then I wouldnt have had to do it alone**

**TG: i just never imagined it would be so hard**

**TT: Don’t you understand? You won’t have go through it by yourself anymore. I can help, I promise.**

**TT: I’ll be there every step of the way, I don’t care what it is.**

            **TG: its**

**TG: too**

**TG: late**

            He was running out of words to stave off the inevitable, trying to find some combination of syllables that would get Dave to agree to keep trying, or maybe reveal some previously unnoticed solution. Nothing was working, and he was on his last ropes as he resorted to the phrase least uttered in his lifetime.

**TT: No, come on, Dave.**

**TT: I’ll do anything.**

**TT: Just, please, don’t leave me alone.**

**TT: I love you.**

**TG: i love you too bro**

**TG: but theres nothing we can do**

**TG: im so fucking sorry**

**TG: i really just want to spend my last weeks with you**

            And that was really all there was to be said, in the end. No more arguing, no more pleading, just a boy and his last request. Dirk struggled to detach himself from the tearing in his heart as he responded.

            **TT: Okay. Alright, Dave, whatever you want.**

**TT: I’ll come right now, fuck waiting until morning.**

**TG: ill get the check out papers in order**

**TG: thank you**

He grabbed his keys and sprinted out the apartment door, trying to control the shaking in his limbs. Nothing made sense right now except the pressing need to see Dave, and that’s just what he was going to do.


	2. You're Skin And Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turntechgodheart is a literally a god. 
> 
> Fuck, this is kind of a downer to even write. I'm not really sure about it, but I'm glad people... like it? Like torturing themselves? I dunno, have at it you crazy fuckers.

He drove like the speed limit wasn’t a thing, pushing his shitty jeep to its limits in his rush to get to the hospital. The parking lot was a madhouse; the closest empty space being an unreasonably long trek away from the entrance, but he took it and hit the pavement running.

            By the time Dirk reached the lobby, his breathing was slightly labored and the humid night air made his clothes stick to him unpleasantly. He noticed none of that, however, as his eyes desperately scanned the nearly empty room for a familiar face. No one stood out to him, and for a moment he wondered if there had been some mistake, if he had gotten the wrong hospital. Then a thin voice sounded to his left.

            “Hey, Bro.” The words came from a person who was not Dave, who _could not_ be Dave. He was emaciated, exhausted, and shivering. Skin that had once been tanned and freckled had dulled to a sickly pale hue. The intense red eyes, known for taking in the world with a fierce certainty, were now bleak and listless. A crimson beanie adorned his head, but the white-blonde hair was nowhere to be found. He clutched a thick comforter around incredibly thin shoulders; body curled around the back pack resting in his lap, and looked up at Dirk with the barest of smiles.

            The sight of this faded version of his little brother made his stomach clench painfully, but he did his best to hide his shock and dismay. Instead, he forced himself to smile, an unfamiliar sensation to be sure. “Hey, little man, you ready to blow this place?” He paused for a beat before realizing that Dave might not actually be able to stand on his own, let alone walk. Suddenly feeling like the world’s biggest asshole he added in an offhand tone. “Can you move?”

            “Yeah… of course.” Dave’s voice was quieter than it used to be, more timid. Dirk watched, insides twisting, as he made valiant attempt to stand; his skinny legs trembled and his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to keep his balance, holding his bag to his chest for all he was worth. He swayed dangerously as a bout of dizziness hit him.

            Without thinking Dirk reached out steady him, one arm darting around his shoulders to keep him upright, the other plucking his pack from his arms and swinging it onto his own back. The older male almost swore in surprise as Dave leaned his full weight against him, horrified at how tiny the increase in pressure was. God, he was so small. “Careful now, kid.”

            “Fuck you, m’fine.” The words were confrontational, but he didn’t shift his weight away from Dirk’s arm. In truth, he was putting all his strength into remaining remotely vertical and he hated the fact that it was showing.

            In that moment, the elder Strider realized that there was no way Dave would be traveling all the way to the car under his own steam, and he made an executive decision. “Fine my ass, dude, you’re a terrible liar.” He shot back, before leaning over to scoop the younger man into his arms, blanket and all, carrying him gingerly, feeling both outrageously awkward and even more concerned.

            “Guess today wasn’t one of my good days, it happens.” The nonchalance in Dave’s voice was almost worse than any biting words he could have used. “I feel like the goddamn princess of irony over here, though. Take me home prince charming.” Almost unconsciously, the younger male curled against his brother’s chest, trying to get some of his warmth to seep into the blanket.

            Dirk walked to the car, carrying the sickly boy, and for an instant he was sixteen again, carrying his tiny baby brother for the first time. He remembered the way their mother had looked at him before she died, the way she had made him solemnly promise to take care of Dave, because they would need to rely on each other.

            He couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed.

            “Hold your fucking ponies,” he managed to force out, hoping to God that his emotions weren’t noticeable in his voice. “We’re getting there.”

            They reached the car and Dirk leaned down to open the passenger’s side door, carefully settling the younger male in the seat and buckling him before hurrying around to the other side and getting in. He shoved the keys into the ignition and cranked the heater, trying to get Dave to stop shivering. The aforementioned male sat curled in his seat, blanket wrapped tight around him and eyes closed. It was only after they’d pulled away from the hospital and started towards the apartment that he roused himself enough to speak.

            “Hey, d’you think we could hit up McDonalds? I haven’t been allowed to eat anything real in ages.”

            The question was so like him, so normal, that Dirk couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess. Are you sure you can keep it down?”

            “I think so. Even if I can’t it’ll be worth it.” Dave grinned back, and there was some life in his face for the first time that night.

            He turned the jeep around and swung into the nearest drive-thru, ordering the requested burger as well as some fries and two cokes. “Some of that is for me, just saying. Don’t hork it all down yourself.”

             “Like I want your greasy-ass potato sticks. See if I care when you get fat.” Dave laughed, digging into the brown paper bags.

            Dirk didn’t even register the comment through the shock he felt at hearing the laugh. It was more like a hacking wheeze than any normal human noise, and it was all he could do not to just pull over and break down. He did his best to suppress the urge, knowing it wouldn’t help anyone, especially not Dave, and he forced another smile, “As if I would ever be anything less than stunning? Please, kid, you injure my pride.”

            “Woah, my bad, what do I even know anyway? You’re the swag master here.”

            “You’re damn straight.” The apartment finally came into view and as they parked Dirk turned to Dave. “I’m going to come around and get you, don’t do something stupid okay? No heroic attempts to transport yourself.”

            “Yeah, whatever.” His tone was slightly sullen, but he did as he was told.

 Dirk grabbed the backpack, exited the vehicle, and made his way around to the opposite side, bending down once again to lift the fragile boy against his chest. He ignored the McDonalds trash in favor of a mental note to clean the car later, and turned towards the stairs. While Dave was by no means heavy, it would still be a chore to climb the three flights with such an unfamiliar burden.

            “I can walk, Bro, goddamn.”  Dave murmerered, as though reading his thoughts.

            In response he merely tucked the younger male more comfortably against him and began to climb, noticing with some relief that he seemed to have stopped shivering. “Yeah, that went so well before. We can’t have a real life episode of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff going down; consider this your warning about the stairs.”

            Dirk didn’t see the smile that quirked Dave’s lips at the mention of his old and long abandoned comic, but he was grateful that the he didn’t continue to argue.

            The climb wasn’t as long or arduous as he’d thought it would be, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be happy about that fact. As he reached the door and moved to open the apartment he realized that there wasn’t a single goddamn place he could think of that was worse suited to house a dying man. Cleaning the place up was just another fucking thing he’d have to work on later. “Welcome home, your majesty.”

            There was no response and as he strode into the apartment and turned on the light he looked down and realized that Dave had fallen asleep on the way up. Dirk rolled his eyes, thinking how typical this was of his brother at any age, and scanned the living room for somewhere to put him down.

            The futon was not an option; the cushions were three feet deep in jutting smuppet ass. He considered just laying Dave in his room, but the place hadn’t been occupied for a month and it was probably dirty and cold. With a sigh, the elder male settled on his sacrificing his own bed; it hadn’t been made in weeks, but at least it was clean and comfortable.

            Almost as soon as Dirk laid him down, the sick boy once again started to tremble with cold. He sprung into action, collecting the blankets strewn about the room and piling them on top of the nearly skeletal form until Dave was only barely visible under the mass of covers, then sat back to admire his work.

In sleep, his brother was almost recognizable as the man he had once been; the stress and pain of wakefulness was smoothed from his features and his body was no longer rigid with the effort of holding itself up.

Almost as an afterthought, Dirk reached out and gently tugged the red cap off. He knew what he would find, but some part of him needed to physically see it. Unsurprisingly, Dave was completely bald; the chemo had played its part in relieving him of his once thick head of hair. With his smooth head revealed, he looked that much more vulnerable, not a nineteen year old adult, but a helpless child.

Dirk patted the younger Strider’s cheek gently, and stood. He was exhausted and some part of him felt like maybe he should cry, but he didn’t know how long Dave would sleep for and he desperately needed to get a few things done, so he retreated from the room silently and closed the door.


	3. To Be A Better Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe at some point this will stop being angsty. 
> 
> But I doubt it.

As he stared out at the empty living room Dirk’s shoulders sagged. It had been a long time since he’d been forced to assess his life and the decisions he’d made, and even longer since he hadn’t been entirely satisfied. Now, a shit of colossal proportions had just been dumped over everything and he had no idea where to begin cleaning it up.

How had he allowed this to happen? How had he actually not noticed Dave had been gone for an entire month, never mind the signs that must have been cropping up for the last year or so?

 Some small, mean, part of him told him that it was because he hadn’t _wanted_ to notice. It whispered that had been happy without Dave always hanging around needing something or other, demanding his time and attention, so when his younger brother had suddenly become withdrawn and cagey he had taken it as a blessing. If Dave hadn’t said anything, he might have died in the hospital and Dirk would never have known until someone bothered calling about the body.

The idea made him nauseous, and he thrust it away into a dark corner of his mind, casting around for something to distract him. And so it was that Dirk Strider cleaned his apartment for the first time in almost two decades.

It was something that needed to be done, desperately, for Dave’s sake. The boy could barely walk, let alone dodge shitty swords falling from every cabinet and smuppets leaping at him whenever he tried to sit down. He ventured into the kitchen and peeked under the sink, grimacing at the thick layer of spider webs and mold that had accumulated there. Trying to avoid touching… pretty much anything, he reached in and grabbed the box of garbage bags that had sat there for untold months.

Dirk had never before tried to account for just how many smuppets he had accumulated over the years, but now that he was shuffling around trying to collect them all into the enormous black garbage bag, he realized that the number was absurd. Seriously, what the fuck? He couldn’t even remember where he’d gotten most of them, and knew for a fact he hadn’t used over ninety percent.

The job took over an hour, every time he thought he was finished he would find another stash in a place he least expected, resulting in repeated showers of felt dong, and by the end he was close just burning the lot of them out of sheer spite. He restrained himself, however, and stowed the bags of plush rump in a newly cleaned corner of the living room.

Next came the swords. He systematically emptied every cabinet and drawer, cleared off the counters and stove, shoveling armfuls of shitty secondhand weaponry into the small storage space in their ceiling. When he opened the fridge, Dirk was actually surprised to find most of the space was taken up by metal rather than any edible products. Cursing himself in the most verbose way he could manage, he emptied it’s more deadly contents and stowed them away as well.

He looked at the sink, registered the fact that some of the dishes sitting in it had grown some borderline sentient life, and almost decided to just pitch everything into the bin, but restrained himself. It was finally time for him to try out this whole “responsibility” thing. He’d been dodging this bullet for thirty five years, now he was finally going to take the hit.

Feeling like the most domestic motherfucker to ever exist, he washed and dried each plate and mug by hand, setting everything neatly into their respective cupboards. Eventually, however, he ran out of menial jobs and was left with nothing to do but think, sitting on the old futon with his head in his hands.

He was going to have to change, not just outwardly, but on a very basic level. If he wanted to be the kind of person Dave needed, and _Jesus fucking Christ_ did he want that, he was going to have to actually show feelings; real, recognizable, human feelings. He was going to stop burying every single sentence in alternating layers of irony and condescending sarcasm. He was going to have to learn to be okay with physical contact and displays of emotion. He was going to need to figure out a way to be supportive, even affectionate. The prospect was terrifying.

Then he thought about how terrified Dave must be and felt like a pussy. He could do this, for him. He could be a better person for two goddamn moths. It was such a short amount of time, like a deadline that was rushing to meet them and he still hadn’t managed to stop searching for a way out, still couldn’t accept that it was happening.

 Dirk’s stomach churned painfully as he remembered the note of finality with which Dave had told him, ‘it’s too late.” He wanted to hit something, to scream, to cry, anything to relieve the tension in his gut. Mostly he wanted to strife, but that wasn’t ever going to be possible again; the only person he’d ever matched blades with was too weak to lift his sword.

He sighed, tired and emotionally drained. It was getting late, well past two in the morning, and tomorrow was going to be one big glorious clusterfuck; he needed to get to sleep. Silently, he crept back into his bedroom and lay down next to the younger Strider. On any normal night Dirk would have hesitated before crawling into bed anywhere near his little brother, but considering recent events he couldn’t find the wherewithal to give a single shit, so he slumped over, facing the opposite direction.

As he lay there he thought about how now would be an opportune time to give being affectionate a try, so he shuffled over until he felt Dave’s back against his own. The pressure was oddly reassuring, and satisfied with the gesture, he drifted off.


	4. I'm So Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

Dirk woke up the next morning to an empty bed. As he looked around the room, there was no sign of Dave and for a brief, shining moment he thought that the previous night had been some terrible dream. The instant he walked into the living room, however, his hope was shattered as he heard a violent retching noise coming from the bathroom down the hall.

            He sprinted into the tiny room and saw Dave slumped against the toilet, breathing hard and drenched in sweat. His head rested against the ceramic seat, eyes screwed shut, arms clenched around his stomach. He looked like hell.

            “Holy shit, Dave, why didn’t you wake me up? Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, he realized as the words had left his mouth.

            “M’fine,” he croaked. As if to prove himself wrong, the moment he’d finished speaking he leaned over, clutching the rim of the bowl with desperate fingers as he dry heaved painfully.

            Dirk fell to his knees next to the shuddering boy, reaching out to rub what he hoped were soothing circles against his back. In all the years spent raising Dave, nothing like this had ever happened and he felt woefully ill equipped to deal with it. “Is there something I can get? Did the doctors prescribe anything?”

            The younger male sat back as his stomach settled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and flushing the acidic contents down the drain. “Guess McDonalds was a bad idea after all,” he said, flashing Dirk a wry smile. “Yeah, there’s some pills for nausea in my bag, but don’t bother getting them, yet.”

            “Can you explain why not?”

            “I need to take a fucking shower something fierce. I mean, sponge baths are rad and all, but they don’t really cut it.”

            The elder Strider considered the statement, thinking how difficult it was for Dave to do pretty much anything, and tensed as he asked, “Are you able to support yourself?” hoping to God the answer was yes. As much as he wanted to take care of Dave, he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to help his fully grown male relative get naked and wet. Nope, definitely not.

            “Yes I can do it myself, you fucking perv. Jesus, get out of here.” Dave stood gradually, using the toilet to pull himself up, legs shaking violently.

            As much as he wanted to obey the command and flee to his room, concern held him in place. Watching Dave try to move himself was painful, and the idea of leaving him in such a vulnerable state didn’t sit well with Dirk. “Are you sure, man? You can barley hold your feet.”

            The younger Strider slowly turned his head to look at him, a cold glare burning in his eyes. “I’m sick, Bro, absolutely no one is more aware of that than me. But I’m not a goddamn invalid. I’m not helpless, or weak, or any less _me_ than I was before all this, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t treat me with kid gloves, okay?” He never raised his voice above a normal tone, but there was a bitter note that said he was hurt.

            “M’sorry,” was all he could muster, too shocked to get out anything more eloquent.

            “Don’t be. Just get out.”

            He whirled around and left the room, closing the door behind him. He sat with his back to the wood, listening hard for any sign that his presence was needed but feeling slightly guilty for it all the same.

            As soon as his brother was gone, Dave sat on the edge of the tub, utterly exhausted. He reached over to crank the water up as hot as it would go, hoping that somehow it would banish the constant cold he seemed to feel. As he waited for the shower to heat, he began undressing; keeping his eyes closed the entire time.

Dave hated his body, how thin he had become, how pale and bruised he was. There was a constant ache in his bones, deep and stubborn, and he involuntarily flinched every time his hand brushed against his hairless head. He felt cheated, remembering how easy it had once been to move, or even to _stand_. But now… He sighed as he stepped into the burning spray.  

Dirk took comfort in the intermittent sounds of movement coming from inside the bathroom. It meant that his brother hadn’t collapsed or gotten sick again. Yet.

Far too soon, standing became too much work and Dave was forced to switch to a bath. As he reclined in the tub, too tired to think clearly, it hit him that the one time he’d managed to get Bro to back down was the one time he wanted him closest. Funny how things worked out.

Dirk heard the water shut off, then a soft splash, then nothing. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then half an hour. Worried, he knocked on the door.  “Dave? You good?” There was no response, and he tried again, louder. Still nothing.

He hesitated, not wanting to burst into the room where his brother was undoubtedly going to be outrageously naked, then felt like a dick for hesitating because what if Dave was hurt? Screwing his eyes shut, he opened the door and stepped in. There was no shout of protest or a reaction of any sort and, shit if he didn’t feel like the biggest creeper in the world, Dirk cracked an eyelid.

            _Fuck._

 He knew Dave had lost weight, he had felt the change last night when he’d carried the boy up to the apartment. What he didn’t know was how battered the other boy was beneath the cheap hospital pajamas. Forgetting that he was scoping out his totally naked brother, he stared wide-eyed at the mottled bruising that covered his body and marveled at the fact that Dave was able to move at all.

His brother lay sleeping in the tub, apparently having accidentally dropped off, but as the water had cooled he’d begun shivering violently. Knowing that he needed to somehow get Dave out of the bath and into some dry clothes, but not really sure about how to approach the problem, Dirk decided it would just be easiest if he woke the boy up.

Hesitantly, and with a constant mantra of “Don’t look at his dick” playing in his mind, he leaned down and gave Dave’s cheek a light tap. When there was no reaction, he repeated the act with a bit more force. The red eyes flew open and for a moment they just looked at each other as the younger man registered what was going on. Then it hit him.

“Bro? What the fuck are you _doing_?! I AM NAKED.” Moving faster than Dirk would have guessed possible, Dave sat up and covered himself with his hands. It would almost have been funny if it weren’t so sad.

“I see that, little dude. Or, I guess, not so little dude.” He knew it was wrong to tease him right now, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take full advantage of his brother’s discomfort. Besides, Dave had specifically asked not to be treated differently and this was how the Strider dynamic worked.

“Really? You are actually making a penis joke right now? Just hand me a towel and go. Please.” He was blushing, embarrassed and even more angry. His privacy had just been hells of invaded and he had never wanted his brother to see him like this, broken and ugly.  

“Calm your tits, I’m going.” Dirk replied, tossing a clean towel in the direction of the bathroom before moving to the exit. “I just got worried; you were taking an ungodly amount of time.”

Dave remained silent as he pulled himself out of the tub, drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist before stepping into the living room. There was no point in trying to hide the toll his disease had taken now, and in a way that was a relief. “I appreciate the thought, I guess.” He muttered as he passed the older man on the way to his room to dress.

Dirk sat on the arm of the futon with a small ‘huff’ of frustration; he was _trying_ but it seemed that his brother was having none of it. He looked up as Dave entered the room in a fresh hoodie and sweatpants and strode over to slouch on the opposite end of the couch. Clearing his throat, he attempted to breach the silence.

“What did you want to do today, I’ll be gracious enough to let you pick.”

            “Anything?” Dave raised a single eyebrow, almost as a challenge.

            “Yep.”  He responded, assuming that in his current state the younger man wouldn’t even want to leave the apartment, let alone get up to anything strenuous. He was wrong.

            “Take me clubbing with you. Tonight. I want to get drunk and have sex with a complete stranger at least once before I die.”

            For a full minute Dirk just stared, positive that this was a joke. “You’re kidding. You actually expect me to allow you to get inebriated and engage in intercourse in the condition you’re in?”

            Dave gave him a tight, almost mocking smile. “Think of it as my last birthday present.”

            It was like his feelings had just been kicked in the balls, a low blow by any standards. Dave was playing the dying brother card and Dirk had nothing to top that, he doubted he ever would. Even so, he wasn’t going to give in that easily.

            “You just spent half the morning making a pretty fucking heroic effort to regurgitate your own intestines, this is a terrible idea. Can’t you just pick a different day?” It was an innocent comment, no malicious intent behind it, no desire to wound. And yet it unleashed hell.

            “Can I pick a different day? Sure thing, when is good for you? Huh, Bro? What day would it be convenient for me to stop being sick?”

            “No, that’s not what I-“

            “This is a good day for me, I have the strength to walk, maybe even dance. But tomorrow that might not be the case and hell if I can afford to wait and find out. So please, _please_ can we just go out tonight and forget for a little while?” The crack in his voice during the last sentence was his only tell, the only thing that gave away how upset he was.

            Dirk moved slowly, as if a rapid approach would scare Dave away. He reached out and lay a single hand his little brother’s thin shoulder. “I think we should get you some new threads this afternoon. Can’t have you stepping out in anything less than your finest.” He didn’t want to mention that the real reason he wanted to get new clothes was that Dave’s old ones were too large, they hung on him the wrong way.

            Dave looked up in disbelief, then grinned, eyes sparkling with excitement. He covered Dirk’s hand with his own, and it was startlingly small in comparison. “Thanks.”


	5. Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we see some sexual tension! 
> 
> I'm just really sorry about this entire story. What am I even doing, someone stop me.

Even as they stepped through the entrance to the club, Dirk knew he would regret agreeing to this. They had spent all day picking through Dave’s favorite thrift stores to find clothes that would fit him now and, all things considered, they’d done a pretty good job.

A t-shirt layered under an open button down hid the extent of how thin he had become, a thick knitted beanie made his baldness unnoticeable, and with skinny jeans and converse completing the ensemble he looked almost like his old self. Under the dim, flashing, lights in the club it was impossible to tell he was sick if you weren’t looking for the signs. Hell, he was even walking with a hint of their patented Strider Swag and against his will, Dirk was impressed.

Dave was a man on a mission. He had two simple goals for that night: 1. Get indecently drunk and 2. Get laid. Foolproof.  Wordlessly, he lead his brother towards the bar and perched himself on a stool, ordering two beers. The bartender, recognizing Dirk from his frequent DJ gigs, didn’t bother carding them and handed over the ice cold bottles. Taking one for himself, he handed the other to Dirk, who had occupied the seat next to him.

“Drink, bro.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t partake tonight. One of us has to be sober enough to drive.” In all honesty, he really fucking wanted that beer and about eight more, but he was trying to be a decent guardian and he was pretty sure that this wasn’t something decent guardians did.

“Don’t be a pussy, we can get a cab.”

“That seems highly irresponsible, little man.”

“I highly don’t give a shit, take the beer.”

“How’s the car going to get home, huh champ?”

“We’ll come back for it later.”

“But… I… Ah, fuck it.” Regardless of how intelligent this decision was, it felt right. Drinking together was something normal brothers did together, brothers that didn’t have to worry about running out of time, and the average-ness of it took the focus off of what this actually was.

The younger Strider gave an approving grin, raising his own beer in a sort of alcoholic salute before tipping it back to take a long drink. Dirk downed the slightly bitter drink with practiced ease; draining most of the contents in one go.

They went back and forth like this for half an hour, steadily working their way through beers with the concentration of two people intent on losing control of their judgment. Suddenly, in the middle of his drink, Dave stood. He was obviously intoxicated, but remained surprisingly steady on his feet, holding himself loosely.

“Let’s go dance.”

“What? Fuck no, you go find your potential mate. I want to finish my boozing.”

“Nope, sorry, this is my party, so stop being the most negative of Nancy-s and fucking _party_.” With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Dirk stood, following Dave into writhing mass of bodies.

It was chaos; the smell of sweat hit him hard as soon as they left the safety of the bar, strangers ground against strangers with a wild abandon, and in the dark he lost track of Dave almost immediately. It would have been so easy to just slip back to his drink, his brother would be none the wiser while distracted by hoards of men and women starving for intimacy, but he never got the chance. Before he’d gone two steps a tiny redheaded girl appeared in front of him, grinding her ass clumsily against his crotch. _Good effort_ he thought, as he turned smoothly away _but you’re not my type._

And so it went, he flowed from one partner to the next, rarely sticking around for more than one song before melting back into the crowd to find someone knew.  The DJ was decent; Dirk conceded grudgingly, the music was loud enough to _feel_ , with a low baseline that vibrated through the floor and into his bones. It was the kind of music that made you forget yourself, and he had just decided to invite the young man making an earnest attempt to copulate with him through his jeans to the restroom for a spell, when the stranger made an abrupt disappearance.

And suddenly he being was pulled forward,  chest drawn flush with some unknown back, boney fingers guiding his hands to slender hips. He squinted down to better assess this bold newcomer, and was met with a startlingly familiar figure.

_Holy shit that’s Dave._

If he hadn’t been so shocked, he would have recoiled, but as it was his body numbly followed the beat of the music as his mind tried to process. _Dave must not know who he’s dancing with, that’s the only logical explanation. Or perhaps this is his poor attempt at an ironic joke, because grinding on your brother is hilarious and not at all fucked up._ Even through his discomfort, however, he had to admit that Dave seemed more _alive_ right now than he had ever seen him, even before the illness.

His brother danced with an unconscious grace and shameless intensity, head tilted back against Dirk’s shoulder and eyes closed,  mouth slightly upturned in the most goddamn coy smile he’d seen in his life. The skinny arms rose and wound themselves around the elder Strider’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair and it was downright criminal how perfectly their hips lined up.

_Wait, what? No this was sick and weird and not something he was enjoying._

“Dave, stop, it’s me!” he practically shouted the words into his brother’s ear, feeling terrible for even allowing it to go on as long as it did.

Dave did not let go. He did not step away, or look horrified, or even remotely abashed.

“I know.”

 And then the grip in Dirk’s hair tightened and his head was being pulled down and Dave’s lips were on his. The kiss was short and rough and messy and even as Dirk wrenched himself away his mouth felt bruised.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” His mind was racing, inner voice screaming _wrongsickfuckwrong_ as his stomach churned from fear and guilt.Dave turned to face him, looking embarrassed but completely unapologetic, meeting his eyes with a frighteningly steady gaze.

“What I should have done before I only had two months to live.” He moved forward, chin tilting up to continue the kiss, but Dirk threw his hands up to stave him off.

“Stop that! Jesus!” the club was too loud and this was too much to handle right now, he just wanted to be back at the apartment where he could firmly deny the idea that any of this had ever happened. “Look, you’re obviously pretty fucking drunk, we’re going home.”

Dave glared at him, crossing his arms but not saying a word, looking for all the world like a disapproving parent whose child had just thrown an unreasonable tantrum. Deciding to simply appreciate the fact that he was no longer trying to make out with him, Dirk gripped the younger strider by the wrist and pulled him through the crowd and out onto the street where he called a cab. He was really not looking forward to the inevitable talk when they get home, but for now he was left to think in silence.

 


	6. I Need To Pour Out This Expansive Dose Of Words

They sat on opposite ends of the futon, staring at each other as the seconds ticked by in silence. Both men were still fairly drunk and were exhibiting this in completely different ways. Dave lounged comfortably, regarding his brother with a mixture of impatient irritation and something softer that Dirk wasn’t sure he was prepared to acknowledge. For his part, the elder Strider held himself rigid, attempting to prevent any sort of emotion from showing, torn between getting what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable talk out of the way now, and doing the cowardly thing by just retreating to his room.

            “You can stop freaking out any time now; I’m not going to jump your bones.” Dave muttered, and it blew Dirk’s mind how causal he was being about this whole thing, like trying to make out with your brodad was something you could joke about without being weird.

            “Not that I would ever ‘freak out’ about anything, but if on this one particular occasion, I did, I think it’d be warranted.”

            “Jesus, I didn’t expect you of all people to be one to flip shit about me being gay.” He was smiling, actually _smiling_ , as he purposely glazed over the real issue here, and damn well knew it.

            “Fuck, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. Can we just agree that you were drunk and it was a mistake, and move on?” There was a pathetic inflection of hope in his voice, like he was asking the younger man for a favor. Dave scoffed, and he couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it.

            “I’m not that drunk, you asshole. If anything, I’m more stable than you right now, so just shut up and let me speak.” Dirk crossed his arms and steeled himself for whatever Dave was about to say, positive that he did not want to hear it, but even more sure that, come hell or high water, his brother would make his feelings known.

            “It wasn’t a mistake, or a drunken blunder, or an accident. I kissed you because I wanted to, and after years of pining like a lovesick schoolgirl, I finally have something pushing me to actually fucking act on that desire. It’s cool if you want to disown me or whatever; I’m not expecting you to get down on one knee. But it is something that I felt you should know about, given the current circumstances.”

            Dirk wanted to reciprocate, if only to relieve the pain in Dave’s voice, but even as his hands itched to impart some form of comfort, every moral fiber in his head screamed that this was wrong, that they were brothers and brothers didn’t do the things they younger Strider was suggesting.

            He couldn’t think about it, terrified by what conclusions he might draw, and when he spoke he hated that his voice shook. “What are you expecting me to say, kid? Even if we weren’t related, if I weren’t practically your father, I’m sixteen years older than you. That’s fucking creepy under any circumstances.”

            Dave laughed hollowly, “I don’t care! I don’t give a _damn_ , don’t you understand? Do you really think I have time to worry about what’s considered right or acceptable?”

            He put his head in his hands, knowing that he had nothing to counter with and yet unable to allow himself to consider the truth behind the words. “What about me? It’s all well and good that you’re ready to hop in the incest express, but do I get a say in this before you go groping me?”

            “Go to hell, Bro. I fucking care about you, and don’t you dare try to make a mockery of that.”

             “I can’t do this, Dave. I just… need some time to process.” He whispered, more to the floor than anyone in particular.

            “I’ll be in my room.” His brother’s voice was cool, tinted with disappointment and what might have been hurt. Dirk felt a small, feather light, touch on his shoulder, but even as he looked up Dave’s door was snapping shut.

            _Fuck._

            Behind his closed door, Dave collapsed on his bed, more emotionally and physically exhausted than he’d ever let on. He didn’t bother changing as he curled into the comforter, still mulling over the conversation. A large part of him was terrified, sure he had driven away his older brother once and for all, but he didn’t regret it. Putting a hand to his lips and remembering the brief, wonderful contact he had so longed for, all he could think was how it had been worth it.

            Dirk sat in the dark living room for a long time, feeling like scum. For as long as he lived, he hoped he’d never have to hear that tone in Dave’s voice ever again, like he had let him down on a level previously thought impossible. He was ashamed of himself for not being strong enough to look his brother in the eye and tell him that it could never happen, they would never be a thing. He knew he should have, but he didn’t have the heart to crush him like that.

            Or at least, that’s what he was telling himself.

            He certainly wasn’t thinking about how Dave might be onto something, might be the best thing to ever happen to him. He was not considering how this was go-time, that it was now or never, better take your chance before it slips away.

_No. He was not that sick, not that fucking far gone that he would ruin his little brother when he should be taking care of him._

Struggling with the urge to throw up, he stood, pacing the apartment as he tried to think. Several times, he almost went to bed, fully intending to pretend nothing had ever happened come morning. Several more, he found himself in front of Dave’s door, hand raised to knock, but he could never quite bring himself to do it.  So he waited, stewing in his own confusion and disgust, staring at the apartment ceiling as he lay on the futon.

Some hours later, after he’d dozed off into a fitful sleep, the sound of Dave screaming jolted him awake.


	7. I Can't Be What You Want, But I Will Be What You Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but I liked it.

Without pausing to think, he sprinted into Dave’s room. The light spilling through the window from the streetlight outside illuminated the area just enough so that Dirk could see the younger Strider thrashing in his sheets. There was a thin film of sweat coating his exposed skin, and his face contorted in more fear and pain than he’d ever seen his brother show while conscious.

            For that moment, Dave was no longer someone to be wary of, all thoughts of their previous conversation fled as Dirk moved to the side of the bed. He sat on the edge of the card-suit patterned comforter and gripped the smaller male by the shoulders, shaking him gently.

            “Dave, wake up, it’s just a nightmare.” He used a low voice, trying not to alarm him as he slowly regained awareness. It was fascinating to watch the transition, from crying out, to silent confusion, to horrified realization.

            “Oh hell, Bro, I’m sorry, just go. I’m fine.” He groaned, covering his face with his hands, obviously mortified.

            “I beg to differ, little man.”

            “Look, it was just a nightmare, the medication does that sometimes. Really, I’m okay.” His body contradicted his words, however; he had begun to shake, whether with cold or fear Dirk didn’t know.

            “You’re a wreck,” He reached out to wipe the sweat away from Dave’s forehead, but they younger man just flinched away.

            “Don’t. Just… don’t.” He refused to meet the elder Strider’s eyes, instead keeping his vision fixed on a vague point to his left as he shivered. “You aren’t obligated to stay; you’ve fulfilled your _brotherly_ requirements.” The scorn in his voice was like a physical blow, and Dirk winced, but he gathered his resolve and ploughed onward.

“Okay, look, whatever else is going on, I still care about you. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, things are a little fucking weird for me right now, but I’m also not going to run for the hills the moment shit gets real. So stop being such a goddamn drama queen.”

Dave expression was unreadable as he scrutinized the elder Strider’s face for any sign that he was being less than truthful. Eventually, he shrugged, pulling the blankets around him more tightly as the tremors became increasingly violent, and it didn’t seem to help at all. “Thanks, I guess.”

Curled up like that he looked small, vulnerable, like he needed protection. Dirk wasn’t sure what instinct he was following, paternal, fraternal, or something else entirely, but before he knew it, words were tumbling out of his mouth.

“Scoot over; at least one of us should get some sleep tonight.”

For a brief instant, Dave gaped at him, disbelief plain on his face. Then, as if worrying Dirk would change his mind, he slid over and turned, waiting to see what the older man would do.

In his mind, there was nothing sexual about the way he slumped into bed next to Dave and pulled the quaking boy against his chest, draping his arm loosely over the too-thin waist. Some part of him knew that Dave was thinking something completely different as he lay with his back pressed against his brother, but right now it didn’t matter.  

He was nineteen again, too poor to afford more than one bed and he and Dave were forced to share. Whenever the three year old was sick or restless, Dirk would curl against him, just like this, and he’d settle down, knowing that he was safe. How he wished it were still that easy.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know why he said it, but there it was, whispered into the younger Strider’s ear. The simple words were filled with more regret and sadness than he thought he possessed.

“I know.” And with that short exchange, they understood each other perfectly. Dave’s hand found one of his own, and he laced their fingers together. Surprising even himself, Dirk allowed it, finding he needed the comfort as much as his brother. Slowly, the sick boy’s sh akes subsided, soothed by the familiar warmth resting against him, and his breathing evened as he fell asleep.

The elder man stayed awake for a while longer, keeping a sort of watch on his sleeping charge. He knew that nothing had been resolved, and that things would probably be awkward in the morning, but he also realized that there was no room to let those things color his judgment. He had to be two different people for now; the Dirk that could help his little brother cope with his illness, and the Dirk that was struggling to force himself to think about feelings he may or may not even have.

As he felt the rise and fall of Dave’s breathing against his chest, he found he was okay with that.   


	8. For Now It's Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really got away from me in terms of length. I could literally write the Striders all day every day and not get bored.

He was right to think that the morning would be awkward. If anything, he had underestimated just how strange it would be to wake up wrapped around your younger brother. With morning wood.

            _That is my penis. That is my brother’s ass. That is my penis against my brother’s ass._

            Praying to whoever would listen that Dave would not wake up, he carefully began to detach himself, but it appeared that today was not his day.

            “Well, good morning to you, too.” The younger man murmured sleepily, rolling over to blink up at him with bleary eyes.  Even in his barely-waking state, he managed an utterly mocking smirk. “That shit felt like it was painful; you might want to take care of that.”

            “I don’t want to hear it, seriously. Not another word.” He spat through gritted teeth, as he stood and attempted to discreetly adjust his pants. The action was futile, however, and he ended up hurrying toward the shower, blushing furiously as the sound of Dave’s laughter followed him.

            Dirk slammed the bathroom door shut and turned on the water, icy cold, not daring to touch anything below his neck. This entire situation was way too far past his comfort zone to even _consider_ getting himself off and even though he swore as the frigid water beat down on his shoulders, it was a relief. With his dick back to its natural state, he bathed quickly and stepped into the living room with a towel wrapped firmly around his hips.

            He looked cautiously around for Dave, but the room was empty and with a small sigh of relief he walked to his room. Letting the towel fall, he rooted around in his dresser for fresh clothes when he heard a tiny sound from behind him, no more than a squeak.

            Hoping his worst fears weren’t about to be confirmed but knowing that there was only one other person in the apartment, he whirled to face the source of the noise. Sure enough, Dave stood rooted to the spot, his back pack in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. The younger man’s eyes were huge and a light flush was rising up his neck and into his cheeks, but he didn’t look away

            “You sure are naked.”

            “Why the hell are you in my room?!” Dirk scooped the towel up from where he’d dropped it and covered himself hurriedly, glaring furiously at his brother.

            “Chill, alright? I left my stuff in here yesterday and I needed to take my meds. I had no intention of participating in this peep show.” Then, as if unable to stop himself, he continued with an impetuous grin. “Not that I’m complaining…”

            Neck burning with irritated embarrassment, he directed Dave to the door with his middle finger held high. Still unbearably smug, the younger man left the room and Dirk was able to dress in peace.

            Stepping back into the living room in sweats and a t shirt, he walked to the kitchen, searching for sustenance. He purposely didn’t look in the direction of the futon where Dave was watching TV, sipping a bottle of apple juice. It was too fucking early for this shit.

            “You’re fighting a losing battle, there, Bro. There’s less food in the apartment than hair on my head.”

            Unsure whether to laugh or not, he sidestepped the comment by asking, “I guess I need to go grocery shopping; haven’t done that since you were a kid. Did you feel up to coming?”

            “Kinda have to, don’t I? If I let you go by yourself you’ll end up coming home with a cart full of Slim Jims and shitty beer.” Dave stood sluggishly, disappearing into his room to find a hat and pull on some clean jeans. In truth, he was achy and tired, but he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

            “Your confidence in me is overwhelming.” Dirk drawled, retrieving his keys and sliding on a beaten pair of flip flops. Two sets of shades donned two tired faces, and they were out the door.

           

As they pulled into Walmart, the older Strider looked around, disgusted. “This is why I don’t go places. These people take trailer park trash to an echelon I didn’t believe existed; that woman has two extra stets of breasts, on her _back._ ” 

            “You think she’s bad, check out that classy lady. I’m pretty sure that camel toe recedes into her uterus.”

            They went back and forth like this as Dirk grabbed a cart. Ignoring his brother’s protests, Dave climbed into the front, directing the elder Strider’s movements and keeping up a running stream of criticisms regarding his steering.

            Dirk was right to think that he’d be out of practice when it came to shopping. Frankly he was flabbergasted by the sheer variety; as if anyone actually needed to chose between twelve brands of toilet paper, you were gonna use it to wipe your ass it didn’t need to be made of fucking eco-friendly cardboard. Several times, the two men were reduced to playing rock-paper-scissors to make a decision, and Dirk had to keep a sharp eye on Dave. More than once, a box to extra-large, glow the dark condoms found their way into the cart next to the milk, but each and every time the younger man would deny any and all responsibility for it.

            It was relaxing, hanging out like this. Strolling through the aisles, trading quips, bickering over which cereal to get; it was easy and casual and Dirk was actually having fun. He could tell Dave was tired, but the younger man was putting on a brave front from where he sat reclined against the toilet paper and paper towels, keeping up a steady commentary on the varying offenses the people of Walmart were committing.

            They reached the checkout lines, and eventually, a cashier. The woman behind the register glared disapprovingly at the fully grown adult hunched in the cart, but both Striders gave her a carefully constructed blank expression, as if daring her to point out what was wrong with the picture. Rather than comment and potentially start a fight, she merely pursed her lips and rung up their items while they exchanged self satisfied smirks.

            He paid, and Dirk carted Dave and the groceries back to the car; the younger male didn’t have the strength or room to maneuver himself out of the basket and he begrudgingly allowed himself to be lifted and placed in the passenger’s seat. With the groceries packed into the trunk, they started for home.

           

That evening there was a pleasant, relaxed air in the apartment. Dirk was going through bills at the kitchen table while Dave flipped through the channels, bundled in blankets and nibbling on cracker and apple juice.

            “Bro, check this shit out, you’re not gonna believe it.” The younger Strider called over, glee evident in his voice.

            “What’s up?”

            “You know that shitty old British adventurer guy? The one who wrote all those books to love so much, Jack English or something?”

            “Jake, it’s Jake English, and that dude is a badass. What about him?”

            “They’re making a movie out of his first novel, coming out next summer. We totally have to get-” He stopped mid sentence, and Dirk knew why. A cold feeling settled into his stomach and, slowly, he stood to look at his brother.

            Dave seemed surprised, more than anything. Like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said, and gradually, a look of realization crossed his face. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper, like he wasn’t prepared to admit it to even himself, but Dirk heard every word, clear as day. “I don’t want to die.”

            He laughed a hysterical, panicked laugh that morphed itself into a sob as it worked its way out of Dave’s chest. The barrier had broken, the floodgates were opening.

            The frail boy’s entire body was shuddering as the tears finally came, hot and fast. He couldn’t get enough air, choking on the fear and grief that suddenly seemed to clog his throat. Dirk was at his side in an instant, pulling him bodily to rest in his lap, cradling him against his chest and murmuring soothing sounds. Inwardly, the older man winced at the wracking gasps; he’d never heard someone cry like this, and he’d never wanted to.

            Dave shifted in his arms gripping fists of Dirk’s shirt in a vise like hold, burying his face against his neck. The younger man had carried everything around with him for a year, all the fear and anger and pain, but now he was finally breaking down. If he had been anywhere else, with anyone else, he would never have allowed himself this one release, but in his brother’s arms he felt safe.

            Even as his heart broke with each new wave of sobs, the older man did not allow himself to grieve openly. Dave needed him to be his rock, his stability, and for once he would follow through.  His mind cast around in vain for anything that would offer some form of solace, but he drew a blank; how do you comfort a dying boy when you hadn’t managed to accept his fate yourself? Every word of consolation he could use right now would be a lie; things wouldn’t get better, it wouldn’t be okay, Dave wouldn’t always have tomorrow to try again. So, he focused on the one thing that was real and indisputable as he cupped Dave’s face in his hands and forced the younger man to meet his eyes, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Look at me, okay? Focus on this. You’re here, and I’m here. We still have each other, we still have right now, and I don’t want to waste a fucking second.”

Dirk leaned in, bringing his lips down to meet Dave’s firmly, as if to prove to his brother that he was indeed real. He tasted like salty tears, apples, and something perfectly _Dave_ that was both familiar and foreign, and to his own half-horrified surprise, he liked it. He felt the other man gasp at the unexpected contact, body going slightly rigid before relaxing into the kiss, moving against his mouth hesitantly.

They sat clinging to each other for a long time, neither making a move to break the connection, but neither attempting to take it further. Eventually, Dirk felt Dave’s trembling still and his haggard breathing become more regular, and for that he was grateful. Several extended moments later, the boy pulled away, just far enough to look him in the eye.

“What the hell, Bro?” His voice was hoarse and eyes were a mixture of hope and suspicious confusion as he stared up at his brother.

“I… don’t know.” It was the truth; he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done it, except that it had seemed like the right thing to do.

“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” There was an accusatory tone in his voice that didn’t sit well with Dirk.

“Of course not, God, what kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“Then why? You can’t go doing shit like this unless you mean it.”

“Who’s to say I didn’t?”

“How about you, yourself? Just last night?” Dave was backing him into a corner, asking questions that he didn’t quite have answers to.

            “I know what I said, Dave, I was there.”

            “And now suddenly the “incest express” is okay?”

            “No! Yes? Fuck, I don’t know… I’m not sorry I did it.”

            “Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better. _Thank god you don’t regret it._ I don’t know how I would be able to live with myself.” Dave was trying to stand, pushing Dirk away as he struggled to detangle himself from the blankets.

            “Dammit, Dave, come on don’t do this. I don’t want to fight with you right now.” For once, he was grateful for his brother’s weakened state as it allowed him to pull him back down without much effort.

            “Fuck you, let me go. This isn’t fair, you selfish piece of shit.” He was shoving at Dirk’s face and chest, trying to put some distance between them, but the older man only held him closer. “I said let…me… _GO.”_ He lashed out in frustration, fist connecting with his brother’s face. Hard.

            “AUGH. WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?” Dirk’s arms released the younger Strider as his hands flew to his nose. It was bleeding profusely, but it didn’t seem to be broken and he dabbed at it with his shirt looking Dave with outrage written all over his face.

            Dave slid over on the couch next to him, still furious, but with a guilty hunch to his shoulders. “M’sorry. I didn’t mean to actually hurt you.” The apology was grudgingly given, but it was there.

            “S’fine. I’ve had worse. Just… sit there okay? Don’t go running off.” Without waiting for Dave to reply, he hurried to the bathroom to wash his hands and inspect the damage. He was right in thinking it wasn’t broken, but there would be bruising tomorrow for sure. He pinched the bridge and tilted his head back, wincing, and waited for the flow to stop completely.

            Dirk knew he had royally fucked up; Prince of Douches, that was him. He’d crossed a line and complicated everything. There was no longer a definite separation between right and wrong, but rather a shit ton of confusing grey that he needed to sift through in order to find out where he stood. To make it worse, he had brought his brother’s feelings into his own misguided moral tango. Dave was in this for real, and he still didn’t know if he could bring himself to feel the same.

            _But shit, kissing him had felt good. Felt right. Why was he losing his mind over this when it was obviously something they both wanted?_ His mind hissed, seductively simple, and he was hard pressed to remember where the problem lay. __

_You sick piece of trash, he is your brother. You raised that boy out there, he trusts you and you’re taking advantage of that._ Oh. Right. There it was.  

            The blood had stopped and he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He was so tired, emotionally and physically, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to balance on this high wire he’d set up for himself. Returning to the living room, he was glad to see Dave had listened and remained where he was on the couch.

            As he sat next to his brother, Dirk saw the tears had started again. Dave was silent this time, hunched over with his teeth bared in a pained grimace, and somehow it was worse than the full body grief of before. When he put a careful arm around his shoulders, the younger Strider merely tensed, as if warding him off.

            “No more, little man. Not tonight.” Somehow, he understood what Dirk was trying to say. They stretched out on the futon; Dave curled on top of him, Dirk’s hands rubbing soothing circles against his back. It was hours before either fell into unconsciousness, but they lay in silence.

            Dirk’s entire being was focused on the small, warm patch of wetness that formed where Dave’s head rested against his chest. There was nothing he could do to stop the tears, he was well aware, but it didn’t make it any easier to know they were there.

            Dave was still upset, he still resented his brother for being so thoughtless in his actions, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful for this. Something about hearing Dirk’s heartbeat steady against his ear and knowing that he would be there when he woke up the next morning, made everything a little more bearable, a little less heavy. Tonight that was enough.


	9. And Giving In Never Felt So Right

From the moment he woke up Dirk realized today wouldn’t be one of Dave’s good days. The older Strider awoke to the strange sensation of his brother trembling violently on top of him. The sickly male was still unconscious, and he attempted to sooth Dave back into stillness by tucking the blankets around him and encircling him with his arms, but it was in vain. Before five minutes had passed, a pair of crimson eyes was blinking up at him.

            Dave’s face was pale, paler even than the night he’d come home from the hospital. He looked exhausted, in spite having gotten a decent amount of sleep, and he didn’t seem to have the energy to do much besides lay there and shake.

            “I’ll get your pills.” Dirk said after a beat of silence.

            “Thanks.” The younger Strider managed to rasp.

            He propped Dave up against some pillows and padded into his brother’s bedroom, searching for the backpack that contained the medication. Spotting it, he rooted around until he found the plastic container, then grabbed the comforter off of Dave’s bed and several more pillows before returning to the living room.

            “You should eat something.” He prodded as he dumped the bedding on the couch and handed over the pills. Wandering into the kitchen, he retrieved several bottles of apple juice from the fridge before looking over the counter at Dave. “Feel like anything in particular?”

            “Not hungry.”

            “I know, but you still have to eat.”

            “I’d rather not.”

            “Cool, I’ll bring you a fruit cup.”

            Ignoring Dave’s noise of protest he returned to the futon, food and drinks in hand, and watched with a stern expression to ensure his brother ate the whole thing.

            “I’m making an executive decision here; we’re not going anywhere today. You look like hell, kid.” Dirk’s tone left no room for argument and he was prepared to shout Dave down, should he put up any objection. He needn’t have worried.

            “I am so in support of this, it’s fucking unreal.” The smaller man slouched further into the blankets unable to shake the chill in his bones.

            They spent all day on the couch, flipping through channels. Dirk got up once to crank up the thermostat, Dave had to puke twice, but past that they slumped against each other, buried in blankets and pillows. The weather outside might have been perfect, but they kept the shades drawn and the lights off; as far as they were concerned the sun hadn’t even risen. The only light in the living room came from the television, and they stared at whatever was on with blank expressions.

            “Can I ask you something?” Dirk almost jumped as Dave broke the silence, looking down to where his brother was leaning against his shoulder. The younger man’s face was still tilted towards the t.v. and his tone had been offhand; the older Strider had no reason to be nervous, but he was.

            “Shoot, kid.”

            “How come you never went to college?”

            “What?” It was the last thing Dirk expected to hear; not only did the question not have anything to do with awkward ill-thought-out kisses, it also sounded completely serious. Dave wanted a real answer.

            “I want to know why you never went off to school.”

            “Because college is for lame-asses, obviously.”

            “That’s bullshit, Bro.” He felt Dave shift against him, and when he looked down the younger man was glaring accusingly. “I remember after mom died, everyone saying how “unfortunate” it was that you had to put your life on hold, but I was too little to understand what they meant.”

            “It was no big deal, really. Don’t worry about it.”

            “How about you let me decide for myself?”

            Dirk groaned; he really wasn’t interested in drudging up old memories, he’d made his choice and hadn’t regretted it, but Dave was still looking at him intently. “Alright, fine. Here’s the long and short of it: Before mom died, during my senior year of high school, I did the whole college application thing. Got a full ride to UT for engineering, I was something of a genius when it came to robotics. But then… you know.” He paused, but Dave merely nodded, waiting for him to go on. “If I had gone to college, I wouldn’t have been able to take care of you. They would have taken you away to some foster home, I couldn’t let that happen.”

            “So you had a golden opportunity and I fucked it up for you.” 

            “No, you dumbass, that is completely incorrect. We both got screwed over, Dave. No one expected her to die, and if you ask me I was the lucky one. I got her for 17 years, you barely knew her at all. No kid should have to grow up without a parent.”

            Dave gave an unattractive snort, immediately regretting it as he winced painfully. “Is that what you think? That I’m some sob story because I didn’t have a mommy or a daddy? Please, Bro, spare me your goddamn pity.” He was quiet for a moment, as if considering his words carefully before he spoke. “Do you regret it? Not going to school?”

            “Not really, no. A college degree is something I can live without. You? Not so much.” There was a beat of silence as Dirk realized both the truth of that statement, and how soon he would have to do the very thing he’d just said he couldn’t. He wanted to grab the words and somehow shove them back down his throat, but it was too late, they were out in the open. He stumbled over his speech, trying to recover “Wow, that was fucking sappy as shit, I’m embarrassed.”

            It was such a pathetic attempt Dave didn’t even bother acknowledging it; instead he sat up, breaking all contact with his brother. “You’ll be fine, you know… Without me.”

            “You have no idea what you’re talking about, okay? Jesus Christ, just shut up.” He snapped, angrier than he ought to be. Some part of him knew the feeling wasn’t quite reasonable, but it didn’t stop him from losing the normally tight grip he kept on his tone.

            “That’s the best you’ve got?” The younger man looked entirely unimpressed and his tone was mocking as he continued. “Gosh, Dave, just shush you darn silly face, we might talk about something that makes me uncomfortable. That’s what you do every time, isn’t it Bro? God forbid someone bring up anything remotely related to your feelings, otherwise you get the fuck outta dodge as soon as possible, consequences be damned.”

            _He had never wanted to hit Dave so badly in his life._

“I’m honestly astounded that you have the gall to accuse me of being unable to talk about my feelings. Look at yourself, Dave. You waited a fucking year to tell me literally the most important piece of information you have ever been given. Even now, you only said anything because you had absolutely no other choice. So you can put a hold on all that self righteous anger, _little brother_. It’s your vice as much as it is mine.”  He was shouting now, shoulders squared as he faced the younger Strider, but the other man showed no fear or hesitation.

            “You don’t see how it’s even a little bit different? I already admitted that I fucked up in not saying something sooner, but it isn’t as if it was easy for me to come to terms with. Hell, I _still_ don’t think I’ve fully accepted all this. But what’s your excuse? You can’t talk about when you were young because what? You had teenage angst problems? Bad acne? What could have made your life so impossibly difficult?” Dave matched his volume, faced twisted in fury, all except for the eyes. The eyes were scared, fragile even.

            “Did it ever once occur to you that maybe I didn’t like the person I used to be? I was a little shit, even to mom, always looking out for number one, thinking I was better than everyone else because I was intelligent. But I changed when you were born, Dave, because for the first time in my life I had someone who needed me. You were just a pink little blob, basically useless, but I loved you more than I loved myself. You made me into someone that I can look back and be okay with. _That_ is why I didn’t go to school, and _–that-_ is why I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.” His voice cracked in the last sentence, and it was hard for him to speak past the knot that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat. To his horror, his eyes were burning, and he blinked furiously before any tears could fall. “And what did I give you in return? Huh? A shitty childhood and apparent daddy issues.”

            Dave’s entire demeanor softened all at once, shoulders sagging and eyes becoming unbearably gentle as he regarded his brother. “You gave me everything, Bro. Literally, everything I ever asked for. Even when we didn’t have the money, you somehow made it happen. Just because I grew up differently, doesn’t mean I was unhappy. I adored having the cool older brother, little me was the luckiest kid in the world. But I’m not a kid anymore, okay? You didn’t raise me wrong or fuck me up, it’s just how I feel.” he reached over to take Dirk’s hand, brushing a thumb across the knuckles in a soothing motion. “I’m not gonna just give my heart over to any chump, you know. I’ve watched you, all this time; I’ve seen you make sacrifices for my sake, giving and giving and keeping nothing for yourself. In nineteen years I can’t once remember you being happy, and I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more. So yeah, that’s really all I want; you to be happy, whether it’s with me or…. Not.”

            Dirk could have said a lot of things at that point. He could have told Dave that they were brothers and it would always be repulsive and wrong, or that he’d rather be with someone his own age than someone as inexperienced as the younger man. He could have waxed poetic for days about how perfect Dave looked in the dim blue light, unearthly and unattainable. He could have mentioned that two months of potential bliss wouldn’t be worth the innumerable years of grief the elder Strider would be forced to suffer once his brother was gone. But he didn’t. He didn’t speak at all.

Instead, he leaned in hesitantly, hands shaking, eyes scanning the other man’s face for a reaction. He was perfectly cognizant of what he was doing this time around, and that scared him more than anything. If he went through with it, there would be no writing it off as a snap decision or an unwise move in the heat of the moment, but somehow he didn’t think he’d want to. He was done agonizing over this, it was a waste of time that they absolutely did not have.

Dave closed the distance left on his end, but stopped short just short, looking wary. Dirk felt the younger man’s breath ghost across his lips as he spoke. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to do this out of pity, you have to mean it.”

            Dirk gave no reply, instead shutting his eyes and moving forward until their faces bumped together gracelessly. They mostly missed and his top lip got pinched between their teeth, but apparently it was enough to get his point across. Dave’s free hand wound its way into his hair and the younger Strider took the lead.

            This time was so much different, unhurried and unmarred any guilt or sadness. Dave’s mouth moved confidently, taking Dirk’s bottom lip between both of his and giving it a gentle nip, and the older man relaxed, giving in at last. He wove an arm around the slender torso, pulling their chests flush, and he couldn’t tell if it was Dave’s heart or his own that was beating so quickly.

            He cracked an eye, half expecting it but still surprised when he saw Dave peering back at him behind half-shut lids. He took comfort in the slightly anxious expression on the younger man’s face. It meant he wasn’t the only one at least a little freaked out and that gave him courage. Dirk licked along Dave’s upper lip, a silent request for entry, and felt a thrill of forbidden pleasure as his tongue made contact with his brother’s. They slid against each other, dueling for dominance between their mouths; the two men shared the same strong personality that pushed each to demand the upper hand and they were stubborn in their struggle for power.

            Dave was ruthless, tightening his grip in Dirk’s hair and forcing his head back to grant himself better access. The older man let out a sharp gasp at the sudden movement, then went pliant as a foreign tongue danced expertly across the back of his teeth and against the roof of his mouth. _Fuck, where had he learned to kiss like this?_

Rallying his senses, he retaliated, thrusting his own tongue against his brother’s, drawing the man’s lower lip into his mouth and sucking hard enough to bruise. Dave groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut, and Dirk felt the sound as much as he heard it.

            And then the younger Strider was pulling away to inhale shakily, fingers still twisted in Dirk’s hair, hand holding his in an iron grip. “F-fuck, okay, I’m done.”

            “What? Why? Did I mess up? Did you change your mind?” Distantly he realized he sounded like a scared child, begging for reassurance, but right now personal pride wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

            “No! God, no. I want this _so badly._ ” The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, but Dirk refused to look away and when Dave finally blinked, the emotion was gone, replaced by defeated exhaustion. “But I can’t, not tonight. I’m just too tired.”

            “Oh.” Internally he berated himself; _Of course he was tired you imbecile, he’d only been feeling terrible all fucking day. And then you pull some stunt like this, what were you really expecting? To get laid tonight? Wow, you’re a selfish prick, how about you focus on taking care of your brother, that’s your job._ “You wanna get to bed?”

            “Yeah.” Reluctantly, they released their grips, hands falling awkwardly to their sides as they stood. Dave pulled the comforter around his shoulders, looking mournfully toward his bedroom. The gaze didn’t go unnoticed by the older man; taking him by the hand Dirk tugged him toward his own room. “C’mon. No sense being fucking formal about this anymore. Besides, it’s better if you’re nearby in case something goes wrong.”

            They crashed on the mattress in a tangle of limbs and blankets, hands linking together and legs crossing. Dave was fading fast, eyelids growing heavier each time he blinked up at his brother. Dirk smiled, leaning down to press his lips against the fevered forehead. “Get some sleep, little man, we still have tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say how much I appreciate all this positive feedback, it means more to me than you guys will ever know, particularly with such an emotional story.


	10. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just get this piece of shit out of my face.   
> Writer's block x10.

After assuring himself that Dave was fast asleep, Dirk carefully detangled himself from his brother’s arms and stood, going to his computer and booting it up. He worked quickly and quietly to avoid rousing the younger man on the bed behind him, making plans, checking and double checking to ensure things would go smoothly, or at least as smoothly as could be expected. Satisfied, he shut it down and returned to bed, carefully folding himself around the smaller frame as to not disturb Dave’s slumber.

            Sometime during the night, Dave’s fever broke, and when he woke up, he found that the ache in his bones had dulled to something almost unnoticeable. He rolled in bed, turning to face his brother, and it was strange to see Bro in such a vulnerable state.

All his life, the younger Strider had looked to this man as a source of limitless calm, always keeping everything at a reasonable distance, never losing his “cool” so to speak. But then last night, as much as Bro had tried to hide it, there had been real tears in his eyes, and a definite waver in his voice. And Dave had been the one to cause it.

In that moment, his world had turned on its side. Right in front of him was real, undeniable, proof that Bro was human and capable of feeling pain. For once, Dave wanted to be the one to take care of him, rather than the other way around, but a deep understanding of his brother told him that it would never be possible. The older man didn’t have it in him to allow anyone to see him break.

Dave sighed; somewhat sadly, reaching out to brush a lock of blonde hair away from Bro’s closed eyes. He was such a stubborn ass, never thinking about what was good for him, or what might be sensible. _You’re so fucking smart,_ he thought, _but you know jack shit about anything that matters._

He leaned forward to press his lips against the crease that formed between his brother’s eyebrows as he slept, wondering if, when the older man woke up, he’d be allowed even that much contact. It wasn’t as if Dave didn’t think that his actions the previous night had been sincere, he just couldn’t allow himself to believe that Bro would be able to stand by that decision without freaking out. It was justified, he supposed, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like trash about it.  

Dirk stirred, opening his eyes to see Dave looking at him, face set in a serious expression. “S’wrong?” His voice came out as more of a mumble than actual words, but the younger man seemed to understand.

“Nothing, just… thinking.” It was a non-answer, the kind that Dave gave when he didn’t care to discuss something. Dirk shifted, bringing his hands up to scrub at his face in an attempt to rouse himself enough for real conversation.

“’Bout?”

Dave didn’t reply, instead shooting him an “Are You Fuckin’ Serious?” look. Okay, yeah, he’d earned that.

“It seems that you’re concerned about my feelings regarding our actions last night, now that I’ve slept on the idea.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t be?”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh.” Dave blinked several times in quick succession, looking surprised, but rather pleased. Dirk opened his mouth to speak, but before he got a single syllable out, the younger man had rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and looking down with an impossibly smug smirk.

“ _Dave, what the fuck d’you think you’re doing?_ ” He snapped, bucking his hips to dislodge the slender male.

Dave’s grin merely widened, and he lowered his voice until it took on a seductive tone. “I’m mounting you like a stallion, what does it look like?”

They looked at each other, faces perfectly straight, for a full minute.

Dirk laughed first, loud and booming, covering his face with his hands as he tried to suppress the sound. Dave feigned an injured tone. “How could you not take me seriously? That was some grade-A bedroom talk, you ingrate.”

“Just stop talking, you’re embarrassing us both.” He gripped the bony shoulders and pulled Dave toward him, cutting off the beginning of his retort as he caught the other man’s mouth with his own. He felt his brother relax into the kiss, slender fingers ghosted over his chest and thin arms wound their way around his neck. Dirk’s skin burned where Dave’s shirt had hitched up, and he distantly wondered if Dave had a fever and whether or not he would need to have his medication refilled soon.

Then all coherent trains of thought were lost as Dave rolled his hips, grinding their crotches together. Dirk wasn’t even hard yet, but the friction in combination with the low hum in the back of Dave’s throat was putting him well on his way. His hands flew to his brother’s waist, thumbs tracing gentle circles against his hipbones as he nipped sharply at Dave’s lower lip. The soft gasp that the younger Strider emitted was perfection, and he made it a personal goal to cause that noise again and again.

There was a second rocking of hips, and this time he arched upward to meet the slow, dragging, pressure, using his grip on Dave’s waist to pull the slight weight more firmly against him. Dirk felt an arm dislodge itself from around his neck, but he only had a moment to wonder where it had gone before gentle fingertips hooked themselves into the waistband of his sweatpants and began a leisurely descent.

His eyes flew open as his brain caught up with his dick; _this was going all wrong._ He grabbed Dave’s wrist to cease the attempted removal of his pants as he jerked his head away to take a shuddering breath. “Wait.”

Dave sputtered furiously, glaring down at him as he struggled to wrench his hand from Dirk’s grasp. “What that _fuck,_ Bro? You are the. _Biggest. Cockblock._ ”

“Just shut up for a second, okay? Believe it or not, I have reasons.” He sat up, lifting Dave off him and setting him to the side. His brother maintained a deep scowl as he hunched over, arms and legs crossed, ignoring the apologetic hand Dirk laid on his knee.

“If you pull some bullshit about deflowering me or impugning my honor, I will end you.”

 “No, it’s not like that…” he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, unsure about how this next part would sound aloud. “I just… want to do this right.”

Dave arched a single eyebrow at him. “What exactly does that mean?”

To his mortification, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and the idea that had seemed so great the previous evening while he’d been setting it up on the computer now seemed cheesy and stupid. His words came out mumbled and rushed, and he couldn’t meet Dave’s eyes for the life of him. “I wanted to take you out, proper-like, to a classy joint, with suits and a limo and shit; the whole nine yards, wined-and-dined. Make the night special…”

There was absolute silence, not even the sound of breathing punctured the air. Dirk felt a hand cover the one he’d placed on Dave’s knee, clutching it so hard it hurt. The reply was quiet, almost inaudible, “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You deserve it.”

Dave hugged him. It was chaste and clumsy and exactly what he needed, and Dirk hugged back, perhaps too tightly, but he didn’t care.  

“Thank you, Bro.”


	11. Foie Gras and Champagne

Their dinner was scheduled for that Friday. Originally, Dave had been less than thrilled at the prospect of waiting another two full days, but it soon became apparent that no matter how much money you chucked at a problem, reservations at one of the most exclusive restaurants in Houston did not come at a moment’s notice. That, combined with the fact that they needed to pick up the suits, effectively quelled his belief that his brother was deliberately stalling.

They spent the two days leading up to Friday settling into…whatever they were. Dave had an infinitely easier time with it; having considered the prospect of a physical relationship for some time now, putting it into practice came as second nature.

It wasn’t so easy for Dirk.

He was trying, there was no question of that, but more often than not when the younger Strider would lean in for a kiss, or move to take his hand, he would flinch away. It was automatic, an instinct implanted in his brain from years of limiting the contact between them, and this level of intimacy with the man he’d raised as his son still made his stomach churn. He could tell this was wearing on Dave. He would never say so out loud, but the disappointed hurt in his eyes every time Dirk jerked back from his touch spoke volumes.

But it wasn’t always a struggle. There were times, like now, when things were easy and natural. Dave was playing video games reclined on the couch, head resting in Dirk’s lap. The older male watched, commenting on how badly his brother was getting his ass handed to him, absently running his fingers over the soft fuzz growing on the boy’s head.

“You know you’re probably playing against prepubescent boys who haven’t seen the world outside their basements for months.”

“That gives me an excuse to lose, numbnuts. If they’ve been playing for that long I should have been decimated ages ago.”

“I just want you to be fully aware of how pointless this is. You are actually expending effort to make children cry and call you a “gay n00b fag.”

“Whatever, you’re just mad because I won’t let you play. Egbert doesn’t give me this much shit.”

Dirk snorted, opening his mouth to speak when something clicked in his head. “Hey, Dave?”

“Yeah?” he replied, not bothering to look up.

“You talked to Egbert lately? Or Harley and Lalonde for that matter?” He phrased the question in vague terms, hoping that Dave would read between the lines and tell him what he really wanted to know, but would rather avoid specifically stating.

“Yeah, I was online while you were in the shower.”

He sighed inwardly; they were going to have to do this the hard way. “What I’m trying to ask is whether or not you’ve told them.”

“Oh.” Dave was quiet for a moment, fingers flickering rapidly over the buttons on the controller. “Nope.”

Dirk stiffened, fingers ceasing their movements against Dave’s scalp. He didn’t speak, and a silence stretched between them until, finally, the younger male paused the game to look at him. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? What the fuck do you think?”

“Why should you care if I tell ‘em or not?”

“Because they’re your friends and I think they have a right to know. Or were you planning on just letting them think you’d lost interest? That you didn’t care about them anymore? Did you for a second consider how they would feel not knowing what had happened to you?”

“I had figured they would find out….” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. Then it dawned on Dirk what his brother was implying.

“You were going to make me tell them. After you died, it was going to be my problem.”

Dave merely shrugged, unwilling to meet his eyes. At the very least he had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

Dirk took several deep, calming breaths and set his face into something that didn’t express his outrage quite so plainly. Blowing up at Dave wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors, but fuck if he didn’t want to beat that nonchalance right out of him.

“You’ll be telling them. Soon.”

“Or what?” There was a hard, challenging edge to his voice, like he _wanted_ to argue. But Dirk knew his little brother, knew how is head worked, and he wasn’t about to rise to the bait.

“Absolutely nothing. And I do mean nothing; they’ll never hear from you again, maybe one of them will Google you, find your obituary in the paper. Because I sure won’t be talking to them. This is hard enough for me without being responsible for their feelings, too.”  He kept his tone even and non-confrontational.

Dave stared up at him, and when their eyes met it was impossible to miss the pleading look there. “I can’t, Bro. What am I supposed to say? To _any_ of them?”

Some of his anger dissipated, replaced by a mixture of sympathy and a desire to protect. But he couldn’t this time, this time Dave would have to shoulder the blow. Dirk reached out to take his brother’s hand, calloused fingers twining with long, slender ones. “Would you prefer to Skype them? It would make explaining easier, I think.”  

The younger male seemed to consider it, looking pensive as he traced patterns on the back of Dirk’s hand. “Sit with me when I do it? You don’t have to say anything, or even be on camera, but I’ll need you nearby to force me to go through with it.”

“Of course.” The reply was instantaneous, but privately he was apprehensive. The thought of watching Dave going through what was undoubtedly going to be an emotionally charged and incredibly agonizing conversation not once, but three times, made his heart constrict painfully.

Dave promised he’d call the others within the next week, and Dirk agreed. It would give the younger Strider time to seriously consider what he was going to say, and even more important to both men, it would allow them to have this one weekend to themselves, no one to worry about but each other.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Friday night found them rushing to get dressed, Dirk hogging the bathroom to fix his hair, Dave shouting that he couldn’t find his pills. The limo was parked outside; driver patiently waiting while his passengers urged one another to hurry the fuck up or they would miss their reservations. Finally, the medication was taken and the hair was sufficiently pointy and the two men stood facing each other at the entrance of the apartment.

            They took a moment to just _look_ , letting the sense of urgency trickle away as they remembered what that night was supposed to be.

            Dave had always looked good in red, Dirk thought, and this evening was no exception. He’d picked out a deep burgundy tux and matching tie, opting for a black undershirt and fedora to cover his still mostly-bald head. The overall effect was, in Dirk’s opinion, devastating. The shade of the suit set-off the red of his brother’s eyes in such a way that they almost seemed to glow beneath the rim of the hat, and he was finding it difficult to look away.

            For his part, the younger Strider was less distracted by his “date’s” appearance. Not to say that he wasn’t impressed, he was just used to Dirk cutting a striking figure even in the most mundane attire. The black tux he wore now was a classic, and it somehow suited the man. For this one night he’d declined to wear his hat and gloves, the only color in the entire outfit appearing in his dark orange tie. On any other occasion Dave would have considered the shade garish and awful, but in this case it merely served to highlight the amber flecks in the older man’s gaze.

            Dirk reached out to adjust the younger Strider’s collar, corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Not bad.”

            Dave caught onto his brother’s wrists before he could pull away, “We could skip dinner, you know. It’ll be ridiculously expensive and, frankly, I have an entirely different appetite that needs tending to.” He punctuated the statement with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

            He gave a small puff of laughter and disengaged his wrists from his brother’s grip, “We’re already dressed and the limo is waiting, so stop trying to seduce me, you whore.”

            With a long-suffering sigh, the other man relented, stepping around him to lead the way to the door. Dirk followed, catching Dave’s hand in his own as they left the apartment and descended to the limo.

            Dinner went better than either man had anticipated. Both had feared that the awkward silence which had descended on them in the limo would carry over into the restraint, but the tension was broken almost the moment they reached the doors. As the most exclusive fine-dining establishment in Houston, Préntentieux came equipped with a simpering floor and wait staff. One such member held the door open for them as they went inside, and another came hurrying over to ask if they’d made reservations.

            “Yeah, table for two under the name Strider, eight o’clock.”

            “Yes, of course, sir. Might I say you’re both looking fine this evening.” The man spoke smoothly; paying them obligatory compliments as he led them to their seats, glancing down to see their clasped hands. “Oh, you’re together! What’s the occasion?”

            It was such a mundane question, for most people the answer would have been something as simple as “a birthday” or “an anniversary,” but not them. The words were out before Dave could stop them, “I’m hoping to get lucky tonight. This guy is a fucking tight-ass; won’t put out before the third date because of standards or some bullshit and I’m not the type to wait that long, so I figure if I blow enough cash on date number one it’ll be like a package deal. Everyone wins.”

            Dirk fought to keep a deadpan expression as they took their seats, the waiter gaping at them both in obvious discomfort. “What he doesn’t know is that I would have gone home with him the night we met, but I saw the chance to bum a few meals and couldn’t pass it up.” He cracked open the menu, glancing over the drink selection without really reading it. “We’ll take a bottle of Champagne to start off with, thanks.”

            The man hurried away and they finally allowed themselves to laugh, silent and breathless, shoulders shaking with ill contained mirth. The older man got himself under control first, though he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, “Are you _trying_ to get us kicked out.”

            “Please, like they’d willingly rob themselves of two well paying customers in a joint like this? They’d have no one to fill the table with.” Dave’s smiled, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made him seem healthier, more alive.  

            “Still, you could have given me some warning or something. You’re lucky I kept it together enough to play along.”

            “You’d have never given me a warning, you fucking hypocrite. Remember the time when my teacher asked why I’d brought a smuppet in for Show and Tell in third grade? No warning then.”

            “Yeah, but that was common sense. Besides, for all you knew at that age, it _was_ an ethnic spirit totem.”

            “God help that religion.”

            At that moment the waiter returned with the Champagne, looking considerably less flustered. He poured them both a glass each and set the rest of the bottle on the table before asking if they were prepared to order. Dirk asked for a simple steak, cooked rare and lightly seasoned. Dave was prepared to be more adventurous.

            “I’ll have the Foie Gras in Duck Jus.” The way he said it, confident and sure, made Dirk certain that his brother had no idea what foie gras actually was. More than likely he was only ordering it because it was expensive and sounded fancy as shit, but he knew Dave well enough to know that the younger man would hate it.

            Surreptitiously, he nudged his leg under the table, giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head. For a Strider this was practically screaming “Abort mission, here thar be Dragons,” but Dave ignored him and the waiter vanished with their orders.

            “You’re gonna regret that, you stubborn shit.” Dirk muttered, taking a long drink from his glass of Champagne.

            “How bad could it possibly be?”

            “Do you know what foie gras is?”

            “No, but anything they charge that much for has to taste good right?”

            “Wrong. It’s expensive because it’s difficult to obtain. Most places have laws against making it.”

            Dave paused here, his self-assured expression faltering. “Alright, I’ll bite, what is it?”

            “It’s the liver of a duck or goose, usually a duck, which has been force-fed corn to make the aforementioned organ particularly fatty.”

            The younger man blanched, looking horrorstruck. “What the _fuck_?! That’s not just inhumane, that’s straight up nasty.”

            Dirk laughed softly, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction at Dave’s reaction. “Now I bet you wish you’d listened.”

            This merely earned him a punch on the arm, “Asshole.”

            A comfortable silence fell and they sat, content to sip at their drinks and glance over at each other every now and then to see the same warm look mirrored on both faces. Eventually, their food came out, delivered by a different waiter. Dave stared as his mournfully while Dirk set in on his steak with the satisfaction of someone who knows they got the better deal.

            “It even looks like a liver.”

            “You have no idea what liver looks like, Dave.”

            “Yeah, but you can just tell.”

            “You wouldn’t know what the hell it was if I hadn’t told you.”

            “I’m not eating it.”

            “Good, because I wouldn’t kiss that mouth for anything in the world if you did.”

            “Gimme some of yours.”

            “No. Fuck you, I tried to convince you to get real food but you wanted to be a badass.”

            “Bro, come on, this is a pretty shitty date if I’m not even going to get to eat anything.”

            “God damn it. Fine.” He grudgingly portioned off a piece of his meal and passed it to Dave’s plate while the younger Strider made a noise of victory.

            “You are wonderful.” He whispered, reverently taking his first bite.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” Dirk smiled and shoved in another mouthful of food.

            They spoke quietly throughout the meal, shifting smoothly from one topic to another with the ease of two people who were intimately familiar with the inner workings of each other’s mind. They reminisced about childhood memories with their mother, traded verbal barbs over past mistakes, and laughed over shared embarrassments. Under the circumstances the conversation could have easily become sad and nostalgic, a remembrance of a time when things were easier and they’d had all their whole lives in front of them, but it didn’t. Instead, it was comforting, something safe and familiar, a security blanket from the rest of the world.

Gradually, their bellies filled, Dave’s faster than Dirk’s, and they moved on to finishing the bottle of Champagne.

            The drink wasn’t strong, but with the alcohol softening the edges of the world and making the dim lighting of the restaurant seem warm and inviting, it was easy to fall into a state similar to inebriation. Dave had slumped against Dirk, hand resting casually on his thigh, Dirk’s arm was wound around his brother’s shoulders and the older man was acutely aware of the heat radiating wherever they touched.

            When Dave spoke his words came in a slow, careless drawl, and Dirk could feel his breath against the shell of his ear. “I reckon s’bout time for us to get home, Bro. As good as you look in that suit, m’thinking it’d look better on the floor.”

            A little thrill of nerves shot through him; was he really going to go through with it? Did he even want to?

            Yes, he decided, yes he absolutely wanted to, as vile as the thought made him feel on some base level. The only question was would he be able to? Well, there was only one way to find out.

            “I reckon you’re right Dave.” The elder Strider stood, pulling the other man up along with him, leaving a wad of cash on the table before leading the way to the door where he’d ordered the limo to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm really sorry this took so long to write, I've just been hells of busy. I'll work on getting these chapters out at a more reasonable pace in the future, I swear. 
> 
> THAT SAID. 
> 
> I just want to say thank you so much for over 100 kudos. It means a ton to me that anyone would read this and think it worthy of praise. I love you guys to bits.


	12. You Hold Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the echos of my everything, you're the emptiness the whole world sings at night  
> You're the laziness of afternoon, you're the reason why I burst and why I bloom  
> You're the leaky sink of sentiment, you're the failed attempts I never can forget  
> You're all the metaphors I can't create, to comprehend this curse that I call love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> Yeah, I...hm. 
> 
> Sorry.

Climbing the stairs back up to the apartment was a more arduous task than it should have been. Dave leaned against him heavily, his steps clumsy and labored, and it seemed more and more likely that the sickly male would have to crash for the night as soon as they got in.

            Dirk propped him up as best he could, unlocking the door and hauling his brother inside, half turning to close it behind them. Part of him was relieved that tonight wouldn’t be the night, the decision had been taken out of his hands and he couldn’t be blamed for backing out. Another part of him was severely disappointed; he had just worked up the nerve to actually go through with it and now he’d be left grappling with the issue until the next opportunity presented itself.

            He felt Dave’s weight shift slightly, and he turned just as the younger man slammed him against the now-closed door. The elder Strider stood, shocked into stillness as he registered the undeniably predatory glint in his brother’s eyes and the confident movements of the fingers working at the buttons of his jacket. Dimly, it occurred to him; _the little shit had been faking the whole time_ , but the thought was quickly drowned out by rough hands jerking the jacket off his shoulders. He let it fall to the floor, rental be damned, and rallied his senses. Two could play at this game.

            Dirk reached out to grip Dave’s tie, pulling him forward to crash their mouths together, teasing the other man’s lips apart to slip his tongue inside. His hands fell to the fastenings on his brother’s jacket, undoing them with practiced ease until the offending article joined his on the floor. 

            They moved toward the bedroom as one, grappling with clothes, pushing and pulling, shoving each other into walls in their eagerness to undress. Their kisses were sloppy, half the time they missed mouths completely, trailing along jawbones and down necks, marking wherever they made contact.  Hands destroyed buttons, belt loops, zippers, frantically mapping bare skin wherever they could find it.  

            Dave was all fire and fight, not interested in tender touches and taking his time, and it was everything Dirk could do not to be consumed by the heat the younger man was throwing off. They crashed onto the bed as one; a tangle of limbs, skinny-sharp joints and chorded muscle, the slender torso colliding with his much broader chest. With some difficulty, Dirk pulled away, disengaging enough to sit back and stare down at the younger man with a strange mixture of longing and fear.

            Dave was sprawled out in front of him, dim glow of the streetlamp outside reflecting off the pale skin, accenting the blush spreading across his chest and neck. His lips were turned up in a cocky smile and his eyes blazed behind half-lowered lids. He looked to be made entirely of sharp angles and razor edges; a pile of knives someone took a match to, and yet Dirk had never wanted anyone so badly.

            “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve?” Only Dave could sound so casual, so at ease, while in such a vulnerable position. His voice was mocking,  challenging as slender fingers skated up Dirk’s arms to latch onto his shoulders.

            “Hardly. But would it kill you to take your time?” the unspoken question: _Will I be your first?_

 “It might.” The implied response:  _Does it matter? I want this._

He wanted to stop, to say of course it mattered because it was Dave and he deserved something more than a rushed and rough encounter, but instead he simply allowed himself to be pulled forward into a kiss. The older man took the lead, setting a slower pace even as he felt long legs wind their way tight around his waist.

            “Fuck, Dave…” It came out half frustrated, half groaning, but he made no move to pull away.

            Taking that as encouragement, the younger man rolled his hips, a single teasing movement, leaving a trail of soft kisses up his neck to murmur in his ear. “Stop fighting.”

            So he did.

            Dirk was careful, agonizingly so if the noises off impatience working their way out of Dave’s throat were anything to go by, but hell if he was going to make this hurt more than it was already going to. He took his time stretching, using more lube than would ever be needed by two human beings, but finally it was go time. Now or never.

            Dave smacked his hand hard as he reached for a condom. “You’re not going to get me pregnant, asshole.”

            “No shit, but I haven’t exactly been chaste. Don’t want to accidentally pass something on.”

            The younger man shot him a pointed look, “Yeah, I’d hate to deal with herpes for the rest of my life.”

            Oh. Right.

            Internally berating himself, Dirk smoothed over the misstep as best he could; running his hands down his brother’s chest to settle on narrow hips. Gritting his teeth anxiously, he positioned himself against Dave and looked up, scanning he younger man’s face.

            With a strained smile, Dave nodded. “You’re not gonna break me.”

            Slowlyslowlyslowly, he pushed forward, cognizant of every hiss of breath and whine of discomfort coming from the younger Strider. He did his best to ease the strain, rubbing small circles against his hip bones and trailing kisses over his chest. Dave scratched bright red lines across his shoulders, body swinging between tense and relaxed as he tried to accommodate the unfamiliar invasion.

            Finally, _finally_ with a shuddering gasp he stopped and waited, murmuring reassurances as Dave panted beneath him. Seconds ticked by in anxious silence, the only sound coming from their labored breath until Dave nodded, biting at his lower lip.

            Tentatively, he rocked back in a shallow thrust, encouraged by the small moan the action elicited. Dave countered with a jerk of his own, struggling to find a rhythm. Dirk guided the best he could through his own hazy thoughts, pulling the younger man against him in time with each snap of his hips.

            The younger Strider wasn’t prepared to be told what to do so easily. He used the legs hooked around his brother’s waist to pull him in a preferred tempo. Dirk fought back, changed the angle, pressing the younger man against the mattress, searching for that spot that would really-

            “DIRK!” the scream was torn from Dave’s throat, back arching off the bed completely.

            His head snapped up to stare; all the random hookups, all the one night stands, and never had anyone called out his name. He’d heard every religious figure known to man, heard countless affirmations and pleading words, even heard simply ‘Bro,’ but never, ever his name. No one had ever bothered to learn it, or to even ask beyond a prerequisite bout of curiosity at the bar.  But then here was Dave, _his_ Dave, head thrown back and legs wound tight around him, saying it like a prayer.

            The older man felt his heart throb painfully in his chest, and he suddenly realized this was inadequate. The precious, fragile, limited boy beneath him, the one who was probably scared to death, but putting on a brave face for his benefit, warranted so much more.

            All at once he stilled them both, curling his arms beneath Dave’s shoulders to pull him close, chests flush, foreheads resting against each other. Their eyes met and slowly they started moving, together this time, neither wanting nor needing the upper hand. It was gentle, the movements of lovers rather than two men rushing to cram as much as they could into a time span that was just too fucking short.

            Their end-date was forgotten, the thoughts of sickness shoved aside, until all that remained was two sets of eyes staring into each other, two patterns of breath synching together. They got lost in the smell of sweat and warmth, the desire to be closer, whispered words.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you, too.”

            Even years later, Dirk would never remember who said it first, or if they’d even said it at the same time. All he knew was that when they’d peaked, it was simultaneous and they’d held tight, calling out the sweetest words they knew. Calling out for their brother.

            They fell asleep tangled together, messy and sweat soaked. Dave’s face buried in the crook of Dirk’s neck, Dirks lips pressed against Dave’s scalp. By some miracle, they were allowed to have that one night in peace, unburdened by night-terrors, or shakes, or even the guilt of loving someone you weren’t supposed to.


	13. So Long Old Friend, Take My Words And Think Them Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have all the conversations between Dave and the others in one chapter, but it was just too fucking long so I broke it up.
> 
> Rated S for sobbing. Which is pretty much what I did the entire time I wrote this and the next bit.

The next morning came slowly; Dirk was woken up in small increments by the movement of soft, chapped lips against his own. He responded without opening his eyes, and for a moment allowed himself to envision a world in which every day began like this; waking up warm and content, being kissed into awareness by the lazy attentions of Dave. Then the vision died, shoved aside and replaced by a cruel reminder. Seven weeks left.

            He shook the thought away and opened his eyes.

            Dave lay in exactly the same position he’d fallen asleep in the night before, save for a small adjustment of his head. The younger man was peering up at him, lips quirked up in a small smile and eyes heavy with sleep. Dirk knew the look of blissful satisfaction on his brother’s face wouldn’t last long, however, and he braced himself for the moment the other man would try to move.

            Sure enough Dave began to sit up, mouth open to speak, before stopping dead with a look of pained outrage. Carefully, oh so carefully, he reclined back into a horizontal position before glaring at Dirk accusatorially.

            “I fell like someone took a bat to my ass, along with the rest of my lower back.”

            He grinned, apologetic. “In essence, I did.”

            Dave laughed, wincing as the action jarred his sore muscles. “Oh, God, how long does this last?”

            “A few days, usually. You just sit tight and I’ll get you some Tylenol and your meds. Maybe something to eat, too.”

            “Bro…Dirk, relax okay? You don’t have to pamper me, just give me a second to stretch out.”  

            He felt a strange thrill at hearing his name, rather than the old title, used so casually by his younger brother, but he made no mention of it. Instead, he replied “That’s what’s usually done in this situation though, isn’t it We sleep together, I make you breakfast, and we spend the day in bed? I’ve seen a lot of soap operas and they all tell me I’m right.”

            Dave relented with a rather pleased look, “Ugh, fine, if you must… I really wouldn’t mind pancakes?”

            “Consider it done, little dude.” Dirk leaned over to plant a swift kiss to his temple, then rolled out of bed to fish out a fresh pair of boxers. Ignoring the trail of clothing leading from the door of the apartment to the door of his bedroom, he retrieved the bottle of painkillers and two of Dave’s pills from the bathroom. Swinging through the kitchen to pick up a container of apple juice from the fridge, he made his way back to his room, coming to a jarring halt in the door frame.

            Before now, he hadn’t had an opportunity to look at the younger Strider fully since they’d woken up, either because they were too close or because he’d been distracted. Give the chance, it was impossible to miss the fact that Dave was basically one giant bruise.

            Their activities the previous night, combined with the effects of the leukemia, had not been kind on the younger man’s appearance. Dark marks scattered down his neck and over his chest; hickeys, lovingly given and nothing to worry about. Then there were the purple, hand print-shaped splotches on Dave’s hips where he’d gripped, others where they’d slammed into walls, and still more caused where Dirk had cradled him near the end.  The thin body looked brutally beaten, and it was painful to know that he was the cause.

            “Fucking hell,” the words slipped out in a horrified tone before he could stop them and Dave looked over, smile slipping as he registered the look on Dirk’s face.

            “What? What’s wrong?”

            “ _Look at you._ What’s not wrong?!” The younger Strider cast a cursory glance over his body and shrugged, frowning.

            “Oh this? It happens all the time. Looks positively repulsive, but it doesn’t really hurt.” He curled in on himself slightly, trying to cover up as though suffering a sudden bout of self consciousness. The matter of fact tone in which he spoke clashed with insecure manner he held himself in such a way that Dirk was unable to suppress a pitying look, which only caused Dave to glare furiously at him.

            Setting the juice and pills on the bedside table, he held his hands up in surrender and settled back on the bed, scooting close to the younger man.

“I don’t find them repulsive in the slightest.” He said simply, taking the time to press his lips to each and every mark until Dave’s irritated frown had faded back into a relaxed half smile.

“I’m beginning to think you’re biased.”

“Perhaps.”

Dirk helped Dave to sit up, handing him his medication as well as several Tylenol, before assisting him in tugging on some clean boxers. His brother was much more willing to allow him to help with problems caused by post-dinner activities than problems caused by his illness, and Dirk intended to exploit that for all it was worth.

With Dave more comfortably situated he returned to the kitchen, mind wandering as he set about making pancakes and getting a pot of coffee started.

All things considered, the previous evening had gone remarkably well. Fantastically even, if you didn’t count the fact that they’d probably lost the safety deposit on their rental tuxes. He hadn’t traumatized Dave, Dave hadn’t traumatized him, and it didn’t seem to have exacerbated his condition in any way.

But it was more than that. Last night had been a sort of test for him, I final exam deciding whether or not he could really do this…this thing. This pseudo relationship or whatever it could be called. The answer was a resounding, all consuming “ _yes_ ,” and it was terrifying. There was a nagging fear creeping up on him, a realization that struck too quickly to be avoided; he was falling in love with Dave.

He’d always loved him in other ways, as a brother or a friend, someone to take on the world with. This was different, though; it was becoming increasingly apparent that he needed Dave on a very basic level, and at the very same time he was watching him slip away.

Frowning, Dirk thrust the thought into a very dark corner of his mind. Today was about Dave, and to a lesser extent himself, enjoying a lazy day together. The pancakes were done, the coffee poured, and he used his rocketboard as a makeshift tray to carry the food, drink, and fixings back to the bedroom.

“Holy shit, dude, you really pulled out all the stops. Not really necessary, you know?”

“I know.”

They say close together on the bed, eating pancakes with their fingers, tearing them up and dunking them in syrup as they talked in low tones. Dave was adamant about getting a tattoo, Dirk said maybe. Dirk reminded Dave to call his friends, but the younger man begged off for a little more time. Sipping at their coffee, they began to wake up in earnest.

After a time, Dave looked up from where he sat slumped against his brother’s side. “I don’t know about you, but I need a shower. I’ve got jizz dried in places the doctor won’t even get to see.”

He laughed, finishing the last of his coffee, “Alright, leave some hot water for me.”

Dave shot him a look that said he’d entirely missed the point. “Or you could come with me.”

“Oh.” Dirk blinked several times in realization then nodded, the beginnings of a smile creeping across his face. “Alright.”

 

It took Dave almost a week to gather the courage to call, but finally Friday morning found him sitting in front of his desktop, Dirk by his side, a look of abject horror on his face as he stared at the Skype icon.

“I can’t do this, Bro.” He had a tendency to revert back to “Bro” when he was upset, or sad, preferring to save “Dirk” for more intimate moments, or bouts of anger.

“You’ve got to, kid. They deserve to hear it from you.” He allowed his brother to clutch at his hand, squeezing so hard both sets of knuckles were turning white.

Rose was first, her name was clicked and they sat back to wait, Dirk off camera.

A pale, delicate face appeared, framed by platinum blond hair in a classically styled bob. Rose Lalonde smiled, mocking with just a hint of warmth.

“To what do I owe the unannounced pleasure of your co-” Her sentence was cut off as the viewport on Dave’s end jumped into life and she was greeted with the image of sallow skin, dark bags under red eyes, and a head barely covered in white-blonde fuzz.

For a full minute they just stared at each other, Dave having no way to begin and Rose sitting in horrified confusion.

“What the _fuck_?” She hissed the words, leaning closer to the screen as though it would allow her to see him more clearly.

“What, you don’t like it? I thought the whole chemo look worked for me.” He gave a brave attempt at a laugh, and it actually came out alright. Unfortunately, this just seemed to irritate her more.

“Chemo? Chemo?! What circumstances lead to it being necessary for you to undergo chemotherapy? More importantly, why were none of us informed.”

“Listen, Lalonde, it’s a long-ass story, and I really don’t want to get into the whole thing right now….” He rubbed at his eyes tiredly with his free hand, obviously struggling to find the words to continue. “Suffices to say, it didn’t work.”

She nodded curtly, allowing no emotion other than mild irritation to cross her face. “So what’s the next course of action?”

“There really isn’t one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m dying, Rose. Fuck I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” He snapped, momentarily losing his careful hold on his emotions.

She merely waved his words away with a delicately dismissive hand. “Of course you aren’t. I’ll make some inquiries and do some research, email me your medical records a-”

“Shut up! Just… stop, okay? I’ve done all this already, trust me, it’s over. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner, never seemed like the right time.”

She went silent for a long time, simply staring at her screen. Dirk recognized the look in her eyes, like a trapped animal searching desperately for escape. He’d had that same look during that pesterchum conversation, what felt like an eternity ago.

“How long?” The question was open-ended, but it was impossible not to know what she was talking about.

“Six weeks, give or take.”

A sharp intake of breath from two ends: one from Rose, surprised, the other from Dirk, horrified. Six weeks was nothing.

“Very well…” Her voice shook slightly, but her expression was resolute. “That’s more than enough time to orchestrate a trip to Houston for myself, John, and Jade.”

“Seriously, Lalonde, no. I appreciate the sentiment, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t do this shit. This tearful goodbye thing ain’t me; we both know that, and having you all here will just make things more difficult. I don’t need taking care of; Bro’s got it covered, okay?”

Dirk watched her eyes widen, and then narrow, and just like that he knew she knew. He wondered how much Dave had told her and how much she’d figured out herself.

“So what are we expected to do? Stand idly by and wait?”

“You’re not supposed to _do_ anything. I’m only telling you because I thought you should know before….” He trailed off with a shrug.

“I see.” Her voice was cold and distant, and Dave could tell she was pulling away from the conversation, into herself. “Can I be expecting to talk to you at the normal time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it?”

“Take care of them, okay?” He forced himself to meet her gaze as much as he could, given the medium and the hand holding Dirk’s dug in, already the elder Strider could tell there were bruises forming. “John and Jade, I mean. You’re the only one of us who ever had her fuckin’ head on straight, so keep an eye on them.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment it looked as though she might crack. But in a few blinks she was back to normal. It was only Rose’s presence that kept Dave from breaking down; neither of the two was willing to cry in front of the other. Their relationship wasn’t made that way.

Suddenly, her voice went hard, “Before I go, I want to speak to your brother.”

Dave looked surprised, but lied easily. “He’s not here right now.”

“Do I look like a fool? You’d never call with news like this unless you had someone helping you along. I know you better than that, Dave Strider.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Dirk shook his head and cut in, turning the camera enough to show up in the viewport.

“Lalonde,” he said with a slight nod.

“Mr. Strider.” She gave him a sweeping glance, as though assessing whether or not he was up to the task. Rose’s expression was sad, almost envious as she regarded him, as if she would’ve given anything to be in his place, but apparently she found what she was looking for. “He’s worth it.” Was all she said, and then the screen was black.

He knew exactly what she meant without even thinking about it. The eventual heartache that would come, the inevitable empty feeling that would be left in his brother’s absence now that he’d allowed himself to get attached; Dave was worth that. These few short weeks were worth however many years of grief that would follow.

Dave looked at him, curious, but Dirk merely shook his head. It was impossible to explain aloud and somehow he knew that it only meant for himself and Rose. She had loved Dave, too, he realized, but she would never get the chance to be with him as Dirk had. His heart ached for this girl he barely knew, even more so for the way she’d put Dave first in ways that the boy himself would never be privy to.

They sat in silence for a long time, emotionally exhausted with the looming task of calling both John and Jade still hanging over them. Finally, Dave reached up to click Harley’s name.


	14. Goodnight, Good Luck, Hope It All Works In Your Favor

No one would have guessed that Jade Harley would take the news with the most grace, the most poise and understanding. But she did. The smile she wore at the beginning of the call only faltered briefly, before fading into something sadder and more sympathetic as Dave explained himself. She didn’t cry, or get angry, or go into denial as others before her. She simply shook her head, and spoke in an earnest tone.

            “I’m so sorry, Dave. Is there anything at all I can do?”

            “Nah,” He rasped out, and Dirk could tell he was trying to hold back tears. “Just wanted you to know I didn’t fall off the face of the earth, or ditch you guys.”

            Jade frowned, looking irritated at that. “I know you’d never do that! You’re not always very smart, but you usually have a reason for acting the way you act.”

            He managed a small smile, “And just like that, Harley has got me pegged. Who knew she was so intuitive when it comes to my inner workings?”

            An unrestrained laugh crackled through the speakers, then trailed off as she looked at him fondly over the camera. “Oh, I will miss you.”

            The words struck Dave like a physical blow and he winced almost imperceptibly; the only reason Dirk caught it at all was the twitch of the fingers twined with his. The younger Strider held up his end of the conversation smoothly, though, hardly missing a beat. “You too, Jade. But I’ve still got a while. Let’s not count me out just yet, yeah?”

            “Yeah.” The dark haired girl blinked, propping her chin up on one palm as though this were an everyday occasion, nothing out of the ordinary. “Thanks for telling me, I know it wasn’t easy for you but it means a lot. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my Grandpa, and I really wish I had…”

            Her gratitude washed over him like a balm, numbing some of the raw emotional ache reliving his diagnosis and parading his projected expiration date around had caused. If this ordeal helped any of them in even the smallest way, it was worth it.

            “This isn’t quite goodbye. It’s more like my six weeks’ notice; sorry boss, I’m retiring early.”

            “So you’ll still be around to talk to?”

            “You bet your sweet bespectacled behind. Whenever you need me, kiddo.”

            “Then I’ll pester you tonight, Dave! Just holler if you need to talk, okay?’

            “Sure thing.”

            A black screen and a relieved sigh; this time the emotional toll had been counter-balanced by blessed understanding. The guilt Dave had felt at the end of the conversation with Rose was in no way present this time, and he was starting to feel like maybe the fact that Bro had insisted he call wasn’t such a bad thing. Then he looked at John’s name just waiting there, innocent and unassuming, and the urge to flip the desk and abscond came back full force.

            “Last one,” Dirk prompted, voice falsely even.

            “I know, just… I need a minute. I honestly don’t know how he’s going to take this?”

            “If you don’t do it now, you’ll never get around to it.” He was aware that he was pushing Dave, maybe faster than his brother was prepared to handle, but it was necessary. If they paused now for even a moment too long, the momentum would be gone and continuing would be a nearly impossible task. He flashed a weak attempt at an encouraging smile, “Just one more.”

            With a shuddering sigh, Dave nodded. “Just one more.”

            John didn’t answer on a video call, much to the younger Strider’s dismay. Instead he was greeted by black screens on both ends and a familiar voice coming through the speakers slightly distorted.

            “Hey, Dave! Sorry, I couldn’t turn the cameras on, I just got outta the shower and I need to get dressed and junk. So what’s up, man?”

            “John.” He spat the name out through gritted teeth, absolutely needing to be seen as well as heard right now. The visual was half the message; all of the proof he knew he would need. “Just put a shirt on and turn on your video, dude.”

            “Chill, I’ll get to it. I wasn’t exactly expecting you to call so early, you know? Now what were you going to tell me? Your message the other day sounded pretty urgent.”  He was all flippant attitude and easygoing charm, and Dave knew this wasn’t going to go well.

            “It’s one of those things that’s better shown than told.” He retorted wryly.

            “I swear to god, if you finally got your dick pierced I don’t want to see _or_ hear about it.”

            “Nah, it’s nothing so earth shattering as that. Just stop being a douche and turn your camera on.”

            “No, fuck you, I’ll chill naked as long as I want to. Now _you_ stop being a dramatic lame-ass and just spit it out.”

            “Alright… Alright, fine. I’m dying, Egbert.” His voice came out oddly flat, as if saying it quick and clean would make it easier for them both to stomach. “Leukemia, six weeks.” It was the third time he’d said the words in the space of twenty four hours, and maybe repetition really did make it easier because he didn’t even wince as they passed his lips.

            There was a pause on the other end and for a moment the two brothers were tense, waiting for something, anything to break the silence. Then laughter, the kind of breathless chuckle born from giddy relief, and it was impossible to reconcile the sound with the things they were feeling. Dirk was livid, mouth open and a scathing remark on the tip of his tongue before the laughing faded and John was speaking again.

            “Oh shit, Dave, you had me going for a second there. Worst prank ever; you can’t kid about stuff like that.”

            It took the elder Strider almost a full thirty seconds to realize that the idiot boy actually thought this was a joke. Dave sighed next to him, sounding almost fond, free hand coming up to scrub at his face.

            “I knew he’d do this.” He mouthed to Dirk, rolling his eyes before continuing out loud. “Egbert, you’ve just made an enormous dick of yourself, now for the love of the remaining dignity you possess, please just turn on your video.”

            “Yeah, yeah, sure thing. Just gimme a minute to get a shirt on.” There was a rustling nose from John’s end and then, finally, the man himself appeared. Blue eyes, a mop of dark hair, glasses, and a grey t-shirt, took up most of the screen, but the focus was drawn to his smile. It was an infectious grin, the kind that held barely concealed laughter behind it and enticed others to smile back.

            Dave watched it falter. Watched it die. Watched his best friend’s face swing from surprise, to confusion, to a terrible comprehension.

            “You weren’t kidding...?” It came out as a question, plaintive and hopeful.

            “Looks like the joke’s on you.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew it had been the absolute worst thing he could have said. It made it sound as though John were the fool for not knowing, rather than the victim of shitty circumstances and a cowardly best friend.

            If the way the other boy’s face darkened, John was thinking along similar lines. “Why didn’t you tell us?” It was a question, yes, but it was also a demand, as though daring Dave not to provide an explanation.

            “I just couldn’t…”  They all knew it was a weak response, but it was the only thing he could muster.

            “You couldn’t?” His voice dropped dangerously, incredulous. “You _couldn’t_?! Why, Dave? Why does everything have to be so fucking hard with you? I’m supposed to be your best friend, but you can’t get over worrying about how it’ll be _hard_ for you long enough to tell me something this… this…” He was struggling to find the word, gesticulating wildly. “This fucked up!”

            “I’m sorry, John, I never-” Dave was desperately trying to explain it all away, stumbling over his words as his mind raced for something to say that would assuage his friend’s anger.

            “Don’t. Don’t even.” John threw up a hand to silence him, expression torn somewhere between pain and rage, voice rising rapidly. “You don’t get to say you’re sorry when you’re the one who’s leaving in- Christ what was it?- six weeks. What am I supposed to do?”

            “Nothing! You’re not supposed to do anything! Why do people keep asking me that? Like I have some cure-all answer to their problems when I can’t even solve mine.” The sickly boy was shrinking down, trying to recoil away from the screen and, in turn, the warranted lash-out.

            Alarm bells were going off in Dirk’s head; Dave was in crisis mode, under verbal attack and handling it none too well, and his instincts were telling him to shelter and defend. But he couldn’t. He had no place in this conflict, no place in this part of his brother’s life.

            John was shouting now, even on camera the tears in the corners of his eyes were visible. “Because that’s what you do. You pull shit advice out of your ass, knowing that it’s terrible, but it gives us something to act on anyway. What will I have without you?” His fury gave way to sadness in the blink of an eye. “You’re my best bro. My brother.”

            It was like a cold punch in the gut, hearing the words from an unfamiliar mouth. Dirk’s jaw clenched, but he suppressed any other reaction. This was not the time for theatrics, let alone theatrics in the middle of what was shaping up to be a sob fest between the two younger men. As much as he knew Dave was fighting to keep it back, the crimson eyes were over-bright, the beginnings of tears were becoming clearer and clearer.

            “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. But I don’t have time to make it up to you, so I need you to just forgive me.” The younger Strider’s voice shook, almost as violently as the rest of him, but he held himself rigid as a clear signal to let him handle this. At least as long as John was around.

            “I… god _damn_ it… yes. Yes, of course I forgive you. We should be making the best of the time we have. I’ll talk to my Dad, we’ll come visit and help out.”  He gave a brave, pathetic attempt at a smile.

            “Don’t worry about it, Egbert. There’s nothing for you here. Bro and I have it covered. Just promise we’re still on for livestreaming Doctor Who this Sunday.”

            John looked as though he were going to object, to insist that Dave allow him to visit, but he simply sagged, nodding. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Maybe we can rope Jade and Rose in for old time’s sake.”

            “Sounds like a party… So, I’ll message you later, okay?”

            “Yeah. I’ll be on whenever you need me.”

            And just like that it was done. Skype was shut down, the monitor turned off, and Dave had regained control of himself. The tears were dry without ever having fallen, and he simply sat quietly, holding Dirk’s hand almost limply, staring down at his lap.

            The elder Strider stood, tugging his brother up along with him in a desperate attempt to break them out of the somber mood that had fallen. “Let’s go make dinner.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Much later that night, after he was sure Dave had fallen asleep at his side, Dirk slipped out of bed and padded on bare feet up to the roof. The night air was cool in contrast to the warmth of the blacktop under his soles, and the streetlamps and headlights below gave the entire scene a strange amber glow. He noticed none of this, however, as he climbed onto the air conditioning duct to sit with his legs dangling down.

            Sleep was impossible for him, tonight. He hurt too much, his insides felt too raw. If the calls today had afforded Dave any measure of solace or peace, they had done nothing but cause him further pain. Each of his friends had reacted in a way that was so fucking relatable; Lalonde’s self-sacrificing love, Harley’s reassuring acceptance, Egbert’s completely understandable rage, and seeing Dave respond to each of them had made his insides twist. The worst by far had been John.

As much as he hated himself for it, some distant part of him realized that he agreed with many of the things that his brother’s friend had thoughtlessly shouted at the screen. Dave had been selfish, stupid, and had treated them all unfairly… and yet he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at him. Maybe it was because he saw the side of Dave’s illness that John ever would, but all the irate resentment burned away long before it could ever come close to influencing the way he treated the younger man.

            With a sigh, Dirk tucked his legs up underneath him, scrubbing at his face in both hands. The back of his throat was getting tight and his eyes were beginning to burn. He thought perhaps his was finally going to get his chance to cry, quietly and on his own so that Dave would never have to know. But tonight wasn’t his night.

            There was the soft click of the door to the roof being opened and he turned to see Dave standing on shaky legs, wrapped in the comforter from his bed. He looked tired, exhausted really, but more worried than anything.

            “You weren’t in bed.” Dave called out, voice questioning. Dirk could tell he’d had nightmares, and had reacted poorly when he woke up to an empty mattress. He felt guilty for leaving him.

            “Couldn’t sleep.” That much was true, at least.

            Dave nodded, stepping carefully across the roof to the very edge, peering down at the streets below. They were quiet for a moment, Dirk watching him closely for any sign that his legs might fail him, prepared to catch him should he fall.

            “I’ve thought about jumping, you know.” The words were so soft that Dirk wasn’t even sure he’d heard properly, almost as though Dave were speaking to himself. Then the volume increased, and the younger man turned to look at him. “I almost did… but that was before.” The sentence trailed off, but it didn’t need to be finished. The look in Dave’s eyes said it all. ‘ _Before I had something to live for. Before I had you.’_

He slipped easily from the AC unit and walked slowly to where Dave stood on the ledge, calmly looking out over Houston. They stood side by side for several long minutes, neither willing to break the silence, but neither quite prepared to leave. It was the first time they’d been on the roof since Dave had turned sixteen, and if they were being honest, it would probably be the last. There was a time it had been their domain, their perch from which they looked down on the rest of the city, but that time was gone.

            Finally, the younger man’ knees gave a terrifying buckle and he pitched forward towards the open air. Dirk caught him around the chest before he could even begin his fall, scooping him up bodily and carrying him cradled against his chest. It was only then that he realized how hard Dave was trembling, teeth chattering and hands barely able to keep their grip around the comforter.

            “I think I’m about ready to hit the sack.” He muttered, squinting down at Dave in the half-light. Already, the sickly male was half unconscious and the nod he gave in response was barely perceptible. Mentally, Dirk kicked himself for cheating his brother out of a restful night’s sleep at a time when every moment counted. Still, he was glad they’d gotten this, a chance to close the door on the days of strifing and hours spent goofing off on the blacktop of the roof, and he managed a small smile as he carried Dave down the stairs and back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be scattered for a while because I'll be busy with moving, so please be patient. I'm so, SO grateful for every single one of you readers, you give me the motivation to continue.


	15. Chapter 15

Wednesday found Dirk hunched around his young lover, buried under what must have been every form of bedclothes in the house. The elder Strider was sweating bullets, overheated and uncomfortable, but Dave was still shivering hard. His health had steadily declined since the day he’d called his friends and for the first time Dirk was beginning to wonder if the end was getting close.  
It can’t be, he reminded himself over and over again as he tried to impart some of his own warmth into Dave’s quaking bones, we’ve still got a whole month. I was promised five more weeks.  
He cast around for something, anything, to distract his brother from the miserable state he was in, but his mind kept returning to the conversation they’d had on the roof. Finally, he gave in and asked the question that had been relentlessly haunting him for the last six days.  
“Would you really have done it?”  
Dave looked up, confused and feverish, “Done what?” Christ, his voice was so weak. He wasn’t getting enough fluids, and certainly wasn’t eating.  
“Jumped.” Dirk loathed himself for asking, but somehow it was vital that he know.  
The response was immediate. “Of course, wouldn’t you?”  
He’d been afraid of that. If he was being entirely truthful with himself, he absolutely would have jumped. A quick, clean death; a means of escaping the forced deterioration of your body while your mind remained trapped inside. He would take the easy out every time.  
There was a long silence before he finally nodded. “Yeah, I would have jumped.”  
Dave’s nod was almost approving. “Then you understand.”  
“Understand what?”  
“Why I can’t go back to the hospital.”  
“What do you mean…?” He shifted to settle Dave more comfortably against him, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and confusion.  
“It’s gonna get worse, Dirk. Much worse. I’ve been there before and I’ll get there again before the end. But I won’t go back to the hospital. I refuse to die in a strange place surrounded by machines and strangers… I refuse to let it go that far.”  
“And how exactly do you intend to prevent this?” There was a warning note in Dirk’s voice that said he knew where this was most likely going and he was advising against continuing down that line of discussion.  
Dave ignored it entirely, “I’ll end it myself long before then.”  
He’d known it was coming; in his brother’s place he would have given the same response. But he wasn’t Dave and it wasn’t his decision, instead he was the one drowning in panic as his closest friend and only family calmly informed him that he would be taking his own life in a short time.  
And the worst part was that it made sense.  
There was no argument he could make against Dave’s choice that was entirely based in selfish motivations. Even so, he found himself shaking his head, hands moving to grip the spindly wrists as though already preventing Dave from taking any rash actions.  
“You can’t.” Pleading; begging him to change his mind and be stronger than Dirk himself could ever be.  
“I know.” His voice was hollow and he refused to look at the older Strider, staring intently at the wall across the room.  
“But you will?” Dirk knew the answer before he even asked the question, but it needed to be said aloud.  
“Yes. You’ll stay with me when I’m ready?” His voice was small and scared in a way that Dirk hadn’t heard since Dave was a child, asking him to check his closet for monsters.  
“… Yes.” A helpless sigh.  
They lapsed into quiet again, this one more strained than before. Dirk still had a grip on Dave’s wrists, but it was weak; no longer trying to restrain, but instead desperately trying to hold on. Like he could keep the boy here with him indefinitely as long as his grasp never faltered.  
“I’m sorry.” The younger Strider’s whisper would have been easily missed if he hadn’t already been listening so hard. Though the volume was low, the words were entirely sincere.  
He almost brushed them off; the assurance that Dave had nothing to apologize for was already on his lips before he changed his mind. The part of him that felt wronged in some way was still there, and it chose this moment to rear its head and make itself acutely known. He wanted to acknowledge the fact that he agreed that his brother should feel a sense of guilt for this whole situation, so Dirk simply nodded and murmured, “I know,” in return.


	16. I'll Die For You, But I Won't Live For You

Wednesday found Dirk hunched around his young lover, buried under what must have been every form of bedclothes in the house. The elder Strider was sweating bullets, overheated and uncomfortable, but Dave was still shivering hard. His health had steadily declined since the day he’d called his friends and for the first time Dirk was beginning to wonder if the end was getting close.  
 _It can’t be_ , he reminded himself over and over again as he tried to impart some of his own warmth into Dave’s quaking bones, _we’ve still got a whole month. I was promised five more weeks_.  
He cast around for something, anything, to distract his brother from the miserable state he was in, but his mind kept returning to the conversation they’d had on the roof. Finally, he gave in and asked the question that had been relentlessly haunting him for the last six days.  
“Would you really have done it?”  
Dave looked up, confused and feverish, “Done what?” Christ, his voice was so weak. He wasn’t getting enough fluids, and certainly wasn’t eating.  
“Jumped.” Dirk loathed himself for asking, but somehow it was vital that he know.  
The response was immediate. “Of course, wouldn’t you?”  
He’d been afraid of that. If he was being entirely truthful with himself, he absolutely would have jumped. A quick, clean death; a means of escaping the forced deterioration of your body while your mind remained trapped inside. He would take the easy out every time.  
There was a long silence before he finally nodded. “Yeah, I would have jumped.”  
Dave’s nod was almost approving. “Then you understand.”  
“Understand what?”  
“Why I can’t go back to the hospital.”  
“What do you mean…?” He shifted to settle Dave more comfortably against him, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and confusion.  
“It’s gonna get worse, Dirk. Much worse. I’ve been there before and I’ll get there again before the end. But I won’t go back to the hospital. I refuse to die in a strange place surrounded by machines and strangers… I refuse to let it go that far.”  
“And how exactly do you intend to prevent this?” There was a warning note in Dirk’s voice that said he knew where this was most likely going and he was advising against continuing down that line of discussion.  
Dave ignored it entirely, “I’ll end it myself long before then.”  
He’d known it was coming; in his brother’s place he would have given the same response. But he wasn’t Dave and it wasn’t his decision, instead he was the one drowning in panic as his closest friend and only family calmly informed him that he would be taking his own life in a short time.  
And the worst part was that it made sense.  
There was no argument he could make against Dave’s choice that was entirely based in selfish motivations. Even so, he found himself shaking his head, hands moving to grip the spindly wrists as though already preventing Dave from taking any rash actions.  
“You can’t.” Pleading; begging him to change his mind and be stronger than Dirk himself could ever be.  
“I know.” His voice was hollow and he refused to look at the older Strider, staring intently at the wall across the room.  
“But you will?” Dirk knew the answer before he even asked the question, but it needed to be said aloud.  
“Yes. You’ll stay with me when I’m ready?” His voice was small and scared in a way that Dirk hadn’t heard since Dave was a child, asking him to check his closet for monsters.  
“… Yes.” A helpless sigh.  
They lapsed into quiet again, this one more strained than before. Dirk still had a grip on Dave’s wrists, but it was weak; no longer trying to restrain, but instead desperately trying to hold on. Like he could keep the boy here with him indefinitely as long as his grasp never faltered.  
“I’m sorry.” The younger Strider’s whisper would have been easily missed if he hadn’t already been listening so hard. Though the volume was low, the words were entirely sincere.  
He almost brushed them off; the assurance that Dave had nothing to apologize for was already on his lips before he changed his mind. The part of him that felt wronged in some way was still there, and it chose this moment to rear its head and make itself acutely known. He wanted to acknowledge the fact that he agreed that his brother should feel a sense of guilt for this whole situation, so Dirk simply nodded and murmured, “I know,” in return.


	17. Crossing the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is that I'm employed now.  
> The bad news is that my job is taking over my life.  
> My sincerest apologies.

Two days after Dave’s apology he locked himself in his room. Dirk had protested, suspicious and concerned about leaving his brother on his own for any length of time, but Dave had waved him off. “I’ve got some stuff I want to do.”  
Dirk was brushed off, dismissed to the couch to wait anxiously while the younger man busied himself behind closed doors. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He was exhausted; too many late nights staying up with Dave when he couldn’t sleep through shakes and stomach aches, too many days spent running around doing whatever he could to make sure his brother just kept breathing. It was such a small request, but it was getting harder and harder.  
He was dozing, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep when he heard the crash and the shout. There was no question as to where the noise had come from, and before he’d fully regained consciousness, Dirk was banging on the door to Dave’s room.  
Without bothering to wait for an answer, he slammed himself into the thin wooden barrier and it came crashing inward. His eyes scanned the room frantically for the cause of the crash, expecting to see Dave sprawled out on the floor having finally gone through with his intention to end it all. He should never have allowed him out of his sight. He’d been selfish, allowing his own exhaustion to color his judgment regarding what was best for his brother.  
To his surprise, however, Dave stood tall in the middle of the room. At his feet, in pieces, lay his turntables. He was breathing hard, fists clenched and face pained, staring down at the beloved equipment furiously.  
“What happened?!” Dirk stared between the tables and Dave’s face.  
“They won’t work. Nothing fucking _works_... I can’t hear the beat anymore.” The younger man’s face twisted further as he tore his gaze away from the shattered bits of plastic and glass.  
Dirk stared at him, bewildered and increasingly upset now that he was sure that Dave was alright. “What the fuck are you talking about?! Those were special, you dick, I got them for Christmas when you were eight!” A slightly more detached part of his mind realized he was over reacting over something material and therefore comparatively worthless. The rest of his head, however, was wrapped up in how many hours of overtime he had worked to afford the turntables, how excited he’d been to give them to Dave, how he’d planned to hold on to them long after his brother had gone. Now he wasn’t even allowed that much.  
“Well it’s not like I’ll be needing them for much longer; I don’t know what you’re losing your shit over.” Dave kicked aside some of the larger chunks of remains, stomping into the living room, the elder Strider close on his heels.  
“I didn’t raise you to take things for granted, Dave.” It was an automatic response to the petulance in Dave’s voice; a disapproving, parental tone that the younger Strider immediately picked up on.  
The dull crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as he rounded on Dirk, “Sorry, _Dad_.” He spat the word, and it hit like a physical blow, causing the older man to cringe and his stomach to roll. Dave had only called him that a handful of times since he’d been able to talk, mostly when he was a small child; too young to tell the difference between a father and a brother. More importantly, too young to have developed feelings towards the man who’d raised him. But this time Dave knew exactly what he was doing; there was still a part of Dirk that loathed himself, and always would, for allowing their relationship to happen. Dave was merely driving the knife in that most sensitive of areas, to great effect.  
Dirk held himself stiffly, turned, walked past Dave without a word, and left the apartment.


	18. Quit While We're Ahead

The sound of the door slamming jerked Dave from his rage-blind state. Too late, he realized what he’d done; he had finally pushed Dirk too far, maybe this time beyond repair. All the anger that had been holding him together, fueling his fury and allowing him to stand tall, ebbed from his limbs until he barely had the strength to stand. 

He moved to the wall, each step labored with the effort of atrophied muscles dragging failing bones. Breaking out in a cold sweat, Dave slid down the cool surface and sat hunched over, struggling to catch his breath and just think for a moment. He needed to clean this up; somehow getting rid of the evidence would make the crime seem less. 

So he began to crawl. 

Fever was setting in, had probably been setting in all day, but it was only now that he was rational enough to notice it for what it was. He recognized the signs but it was as though he were viewing himself from a third party perspective; powerless to do anything but watch as he edged his way to the pile of broken plastic on hands and knees. If he could fix this, he would be able to fix things with his brother… he would be able to fix himself. 

Finally, he reached the ruined turntables. With his bare hands he attempted to sweep up the shards of black but his fingers kept shaking and everything was slipping away. Nausea was crashing over him in waves; he hadn’t taken his medication today. Dirk wasn’t here to save him this time, because he was selfish and thoughtless and couldn’t help but destroy everything that was important. 

The toilet was too far away, and he was too weak to move. He heaved painfully, convulsing on the threadbare carpet until the contents of his stomach mixed with the remains of his precious equipment.

His vision was going dark. God, he was so fucking tired. Everything hurt so badly, why couldn’t just sleep? If this was dying, he wasn’t ready. He wanted to slip away in his brother’s arms, or something similarly sappy and safe and peaceful; not alone and scared in an empty apartment. The last thing he registered was that he’d never get to apologize for being such a dick.

Dave passed out in his own vomit. 

Dirk found him hours later. 

The elder Strider skidded to a halt on his knees at Dave’s side, heedless of the pool of bile. Terror overtaking his senses and pushing thoughts of harsh words and broken gifts far from his mind, he pulled his brother into his arms and clutched him to his chest, searching desperately for signs of life. By some miracle he was still breathing. 

“Wake up, love. Come on, open your eyes, you’re not fuckin’ finished here yet.” He picked up the nearly skeletal form gingerly, frantically undressing him as he stumbled towards the bathroom. He needed to warm Dave up, get the vomit off; revive him somehow. 

He ran the bathwater as hot as he could stand it, then slipped in with Dave nestled against his chest. With all possible tenderness, Dirk rinsed the residue from the younger man’s mouth and chest and gently pushed the sweat-damp hair back from the pale forehead, murmuring words of affection all the while. 

So it was that Dave regained conscious to whispers of an imagined future where they could have been together and mutters regarding the ways in which he was more than Dirk could ever have asked for. Not once was he referred to as the younger brother, but instead as the lover first and foremost; a partner rather than someone who needed looking after. He finally had what he’d always wanted. 

Dave smiled as he slowly regained motor control, turning in the other man’s arms to face him with a sleepy look of adoration, strangely content considering the day’s events. Dirk’s face lit up, relief evident in the way his grip around his waist tightened minutely. “You’re awake. Christ, you had me worried. I fully intended to take you to the hospital had you remained unconscious for much longer.”

He leaned up to press a chaste kiss to the underside of Dirk’s jaw, sighing in exhaustion. “I’m glad you didn’t…. I think it’s time, Bro. I’m done.”


	19. Show Me How To Calm Your Fears, I'll Do What I Can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that I took such a long break. I'm not even going to bother trying to explain, just know that I do intend to finish this, and that I am incredibly thankful for those of you that waited.

It was like falling from a great height, all terror and desperation, a fruitless search for something to hold onto. For an instant, Dirk's mind went utterly blank, as if the shock had shut him down, before each synapses was in overdrive. He went over everything either of them had ever said or done, all their plans and fights, every joke and kind word, casting about for anything at all that would buy him just a little more time. Even before he exhausted his options, however, he knew it was no good. There were some things even he couldn't talk his way out of.

            So he didn't even try. Instead he simply made the only request he knew Dave would not refuse. "Just one more day. Let me make the last one count."

            "You know that'll only make it harder." There was no argument in the younger man's tone; instead it was a resigned warning that said if Dirk was willing to suffer through, he would too.

            "I know. But we fought… I walked out on you. That's not what I want our last day to be."

            "Alright. One more day."

            The water was cooling, and he knew better than to allow his brother's temperature to drop again, so he let the conversation end there. Dave was redressed in vomit-free clothing and returned to the couch to rest while Dirk cleaned up the bile-soaked bits of turntable from the carpet.

            He attended the task with unnecessary focus, knowing that if he allowed his mind to wander he would break. Already, it felt like his heart was trying to tear itself from his chest in a last-ditch effort to escape the impending trauma.

            _This is what it is to fail,_ Dirk thought to himself, as he scrubbed the carpet and listened to Dave's steady breathing, trying to count each inhale-exhale. As he neared the moment that count would run out, he finally acknowledged that futile, stupid, childish hope he had held these last two months; that somehow Dave would make it. There would be some miraculous recovery and they could live out their days together in the closest estimation to happiness he would ever get.

            But he would lose Dave, and he would be alone. There was no such thing as miracles, good people did not get what they deserved, and love did not conquer all. He stopped short of renouncing God or any other force that could possibly be greater than themselves because he needed to believe that Dave would have something better to go to. Something worthy of everything he was, because he sure as fuck didn't get that in this life.

            Dirk was wasting time. He could feel each second slipping away with an acute twinge of pain. The trashed turntables were discarded and he moved quickly to Dave's side.

            The younger man stirred slightly, making room for the larger, sturdier form beside him. "So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" It was such an off-hand question, but the answer would be more significant than any Dirk had ever given.

            "Whatever you want."

            Dave mulled it over, but it was clear he already had something in mind. "I want to stay in bed all day, listen to our mixes, and just remember."

            "Remember?"

            "Yeah. Tell me stories from when I was a kid, you know my favorites, or from when I got older, or whatever sticks out to you. I want to relive it all, especially these last two months." Dave seemed so content with this idea, serene with the prospect of leaving this world after recalling everything in it that had been good.

            "That sounds pretty rad, actually." Dirk replied. Already, he was sifting through his favorite memories from the past nineteen years, bathing himself in everything he loved about Dave.

            It hurt like hell.


	21. Love Is Watching Someone Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell if this is shit or I just hurt so much that everything seems like shit.

"So where should I start?" He shifted on the bed in the pre-dawn light.

            Neither had slept the night before, but they had laid together in silence. Each had been left to their own thoughts and while Dave had spent that time enjoying a strange sense of contentedness, Dirk had been fighting a raging internal battle. It was taking all the strength he possessed, and a great deal he did not, to keep from breaking down and running for his life. He had given no thought to where he would go, or what he would do once he got there, he simply knew that to stay where he was and follow through with what he knew was coming would be to willingly stand for the firing squad. Somehow, he'd restrained himself and found a way to lie where he was with his arms around Dave until the sky outside had begun to grow light. It was at that point that he could stand the oppressive, expectant silence no longer, so he'd asked the first question to come to mind.

            "Wherever you want," He turned in Dirk's arms so he could look up at him more comfortably. "Like I said, I just want to listen. It'll be like getting to live it all again."

            Dirk scrutinized the younger man's face, trying to memorize it while he cast about for a place to begin.

            He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and memories came pouring out.

            "The first Christmas you were old enough to understand, and god help me I could not convince you Santa could climb a fire escape because the apartment didn't have a fucking chimney."

            "I was a mess when you went off to kindergarten. I don't think I'd ever been as scared as I was when the bus picked you up, I smoked an entire pack before you got home."

            "You came home once, beat to shit, but you refused to tell me what happened. I figured it out, because that's what big brothers do, but I wanted to let you have your secret. I never told you how proud I was of you for taking on all those guys by yourself. There's no way you could have won, but I'm sure that the stray cat they were fucking with appreciated the thought."

            "Remember the first time we really fought? My god, I'd never seen you so vicious. I'd told you that you couldn't talk to strangers on the internet anymore, and you told me that I didn't get to pick and choose which aspects of your life I got to be involved in, and that if I wasn't prepared to go all-out, I could go suck a dick. And I let you keep doing it."

            "When you were a baby, I wouldn't let anyone hold you. I barely let mom take you when she was still alive, and that was mostly because she had to feed you. I was convinced that I was the only person that could take proper care of you. The nurses thought it was endearing at first, until I threatened to punch one in the throat when she tried to pick you up."

            "The first night I brought you home from the hospital, I didn't recognize you. I hated myself for it, because it was proof of how badly I'd fucked up."

            "You'd wanted to learn how to use my turntables for ages, and I finally agreed. We each had a set of headphones, and I started you out slow. You were a natural, though. So sure of what you wanted the music to do. I was excited to have something in common with you, and we spent all day mixing together. Honestly, I was hesitant to buy you your own set of tables because I knew if I did, the times we shared would virtually disappear."

            "I'm sorry we never got a dog."

            "I know you were weird about your eyes when you were younger, which is why I let you wear my shades all the time, but I hated it. Our eyes were just one more thing that made us the same; both unusual, both drew attention. I always thought yours were beautiful."

            He spoke this way for hours. Time passed all too quickly, but the words helped to shield them from a sense of dread. It was a dull ache rather than a choking, crushing force. It was as though, as long as he never ran out of words, he could suspend them both in memories rather than face the future alone.

            There was a stirring at his side as Dave shifted, reaching over to the nightstand for a container of pills and a bottle of apple juice. Almost immediately, Dirk moved to take the pills away, but as though he'd read his brother's mind, the younger man stared him down. "It's time. Keep talking; they'll take a while to kick in. I read somewhere that it's like falling asleep."

            He wanted to speak, to say something that would take the sharpness from the edge of the horror he was watching as Dave poured an entire handful of the innocent white pills into his palm, but nothing came to mind. So, the room was completely still save for the rustle of medication as it was poured into an eager mouth and washed down with a time-honored favorite.

            "Stop thinking about it," Dave said, settling back into place.

            Unbidden, words sprang to tip of his tongue. As he opened his mouth to release them, however, Dave headed him off with a sharp shake of his head. "Don't. Don't even try. We're not doing the whole 'goodbye' song and dance. We're beyond that. Just kiss me, and tell me you love me, and leave it at that."

            "I love you, Dave." He said, solemn and quiet, his eyes never once leaving his brother's. There was a reverence in his tone that have the words weight, a physical presence that settled somewhere in his gut.

            They kissed, but it held none of the passion that their first interactions had burned with. Instead it had smoldered down to an intense urgency, a palpable knowledge that their time had run out, and every sensation was heightened tenfold because of this. Dave pulled away first and smiled an easy smile that Dirk hadn't seen for weeks as the younger man's health had declined."I know. I love you, too. Now talk."

            "What do I even say?" The question was more earnest than he had ever intended it to be. He genuinely needed an answer; what could there possibly be to talk about while his world was crumbling around him?

            "I don't know, Dirk. Tell me something you've never told me before."

            They settled back down on the bed, voices deceptively even when they spoke. Both lie on their side, facing each other, foreheads touching and neither willing to break eye contact. Their shades sat carefully folded on a bedside table and Dave could see the terror in Dirk's eyes even as Dirk noticed the serene acceptance in Dave's. Two pairs of hands clutched desperately, but there was no further contact.

            "You know everything there is to know about me, more than I thought anyone ever would."

            "Promise me you'll be okay, then."

            "I can't do that."

            "You can. I know you and I know what you're capable of. Promise me you'll take care of yourself, and eventually move on. Promise that you'll laugh and make music and go back to robotics."

            "Dave, please. Don't do this."

            "I have to, though. It's the one thing that terrifies me about going; the fear that you'll just check out. So promise that you'll keep living, for my sake."

            "I… I promise."

            "Good."

            They were speaking in whispers now. Dave because he was tired. So, so tired. Dirk because he was doing everything in his power to hold back tears. He could see his brother was fading fast, eyelids drooping and fingers going slack.  

            "I love you. I'm so, so sorry for putting you through all this, but you gave me more than I could ever ask for." His speech grew labored; each word came a little more slowly.

            "Don't apologize, just keep your eyes open. Just a little longer." He was growing frantic, begging without shame or pretense.

            "When you find someone who deserves you, don't feel guilty for loving again. I want you to be happy." The voice was weak, barely a breath.

            "Never again. I will never love anyone like I love you…. Please, oh god, please stay awake." On the verge of panic, his tone raw and ragged as he swallowed back a sob.

            "G'night, Bro."

            "No, fuck _no._ Please, Dave, I love you, open your eyes. Not yet. _I'm not ready yet_. Don't make me do this alone."

            Dave Strider died in the early evening of a perfect summer's day.

            Dirk Strider finally broke down in a lifeless apartment, the defeated, bitter weeping of a man who had lost everything.

            One could make the argument that there were two casualties that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't know, I have no idea what exactly Dave took. Just don't question it, write it off as a literary thing or something.


	22. A Tragedy Is Just That, No Matter What Religious Rhetoric You Pull It Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort of epilogue.

He didn't go to the funeral. There was no part of him that wanted to stand with the strangers that had been Dave's friends and watch a box that might as well have been empty get lowered into the ground while words that meant nothing were said over the entire proceeding. The ceremony was pointless, meant only to comfort those who could be comforted, and he could not be comforted.

            Instead he remained in the apartment, just as he had for the past week and a half, laying in the bed that they'd shared and surrounding himself with Dave's clothes in an effort to catch some of his scent. Eating had become secondary, and any activity at all had halted. There had been calls, from who he didn't know. He never bothered to pick up.

            Tears wouldn't come anymore. He was beyond pain, beyond a simple release of pent-up sadness and hurt. A crucial part of his being was missing and without it his body could not function.

            Sleep was his only respite. In his dreams he could change the past and the future. Sometimes Dave was a child and Dirk was the perfect guardian he'd always wished he could be. Sometimes they were lovers, growing old together where no one could tell them they couldn't. But regardless of the scenario, it always came to an end when his body refused to stay unconscious any longer. Each time, waking up was its own minute hell. The groggy realization that it had all been a dream was a fresh punch in the gut no matter how many times he endured it.

            He began to lose weight; movements became increasingly sluggish and required more effort. Dimly, he realized that this was probably unhealthy and that Dave wouldn't have wanted this for him, but he couldn't bring himself to give a single shit.

            There was no telling how long this might have gone on if, after another week had gone by, there hadn't been an insistent knocking at the door. At first he had intended to ignore it, but it went on, a grating and adamant reminder of the world outside. Eventually, his frustration overwhelmed his apathy and propelled him to the door.

            It was his landlord. The rent was two weeks overdue and the mailbox in the lobby hadn't been emptied for over a week. He promised to have it paid by tomorrow and the landlord shrugged and handed him a stack of envelopes with a look of terrible pity in his eyes. Dirk wanted to throw up.

            He was tempted to throw the mail on the table and go back to bed, but there was an oversized burn orange package that caught his attention. It was from the University of Texas, and it was addressed to Dirk Strider. Feeling the stirrings of interest for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he broke the seal, pulled out a small stack of papers and began to read.

            _Dear Mr. Strider,_

_Congratulations!!! We are pleased to offer to acceptance into the University of Texas Engineering program for the fall semester of 2017…._

He re-read the letter several times, utterly baffled. He hadn't applied, hadn't so much as looked at an application, yet this was very distinctly an acceptance letter, offering him a full ride no less.

            All at once it clicked into place.

            Dave.

            Dave had filled out an application for him. Had sent it in, knowing that after he was gone Dirk would need something to keep him going and that he would never apply himself. What was more, the application had been so good that it had earned a scholarship.

            He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, hot and slow to fall. But these were tears of gratitude; silent thanks for his brother's parting gift. Dirk would not let him down. He would live for Dave's memory and make good on his last promise.

SIX MONTHS LATER

            "Happy Birthday, little brother." Dirk poured half the bottle of vodka onto the half-frozen ground in front of the simple tombstone marked Dave Strider. It was cold, especially for Texas, but today he needed to be here. "School has been a cake walk, but we knew it would be, huh? You should have seen the looks on those rich kid's faces on the first day of class. Figured a grown-ass man like me was there for remedial math or some shit, but no. Within a week I was schooling the professors. They think that if I keep up the pace I'm currently at I could graduate within the next couple years, then on to my Master's…. you'd be proud, I think."

            He stands alone in the cemetery and reflects. The pain is still there, sharper now than it's been in a while considering this is the first time he managed to drag himself to the grave site, but he can bear it. It's better than the numb emptiness of his first month alone.

            "I miss you like hell, all the time. I almost moved out of the apartment, but I can't stand the thought of trying to sort through all your stuff and I'll be damned if I let anyone else touch it. I listen to your mixes all the time, though. I wish I'd taken more opportunities to tell you how good they were."

            He hears footsteps behind him and turns, surprised in spite of himself. There's a tall, dark haired figure approaching. The stranger smiles sadly at him and he realizes with a jolt of surprise that he recognizes the young man. It's one of Dave's friends, the blue-eyed boy. He's pretty sure his name is John.

            "I wanted to visit on his birthday, I hope you don't mind." He comes to a halt next to Dirk and pulls a bottle of apple juice from inside his coat, untwisting the cap and spilling the contents on top of the vodka. "Pouring one out for my homie."

            To his surprise, Dirk did not begrudge the company, was even glad of it. "He'd appreciate it, I'm sure."

            "I miss him, you know?"

            "Yeah."

            The two of them stand, side by side, staring down at the tombstone. Their breath comes in tiny clouds as each mind wanders to separate memories, regrets, and wishes. Somehow, the pain is mitigated by the fact that it's shared, even between strangers.

            John breaks the silence. "This may sound weird, but do you want to grab breakfast? I'm feeling pancakes, and really I need to talk to someone about him. About this. Rose will over-complicate things, and Jade will just get sad, but I think you'll understand."

            There's a long silence, Dirk's first reaction is to immediately deny. But the more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he, too, needs to talk about this with someone, and that maybe this there are worse people to do that with than John. "Alright, my treat, in honor of the birthday boy."

            As one, they give the tombstone a final salute and turn away, crossing the cemetery together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus concludes the story. Thank you so, so much for reading. Completing this work was a monumental task, but I'm really glad I did.


End file.
